


Canonazo

by BrofriendWrites



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Video Game World, Angst, Bickering, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Depressed Keith (Voltron), Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hunk is a sweetheart, I'm adding tags as I go, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith and Shiro are cousins, Korean Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) is a Dork, Lance (Voltron) is a Shithead, Like An Actual Dad, M/M, Main plot, Matt is loved by all, Mentions of Eating Disorder, Murder Mystery, Nothing is graphic or goes into detail, Oh also, Or is it Leith?, Plot, References to Depression, Shiro is a Good Bro, Side plot, Slow Build, Slow Burn, There's a lot of bullshit with slight references to a plot that won't show up until much later woops, This was for nanowrimo, Virtual Reality, Who will bottom?, Who will top?, cute moments, klance, not the sexy kind, pidge Knows all, pining lance, shiro is a Dad, the world may never know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-03 03:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrofriendWrites/pseuds/BrofriendWrites
Summary: In a futuristic world where pollution has gotten so bad that cars are no longer allowed, virtual reality is most everyone's escape from their shared, harsh reality. When people start dropping dead, leaving police baffled, our group of protagonists will be the only ones who will be able to find the killer.Or;Where Keith is cute and kind of depressed and he plays video games and him and Lance bicker all the time while the gang looks at each other knowingly. And then there's some plot sprinkled in the slight angst, slow burn and fluff. Enjoy.Ps. Updates every Wednesday!





	1. Chapter #1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not too much Klance in this chapter but I promise there's a LOT more in the next one (which is already written). The first chapter is pretty important to explain the setting, introduce the characters and stuff like that. Enjoy~

Keith narrows his gaze and readjusts his grip on his bow, letting out a slow exhale as he finally releases the arrow. It flies through the air for a few heart-stopping seconds before sinking into the enemy's chest. A guy to Keith’s immediate right lets out a hoot and Keith’s fist launches into the air in triumph. The girl he managed to shoot down stands back up from where she fell back on her behind, eyes angry behind her visor as she storms out of the glowing game portal. The members of Keith’s team shoot him a thumbs up and Antok, a tall boy with purple skin, fuzzy ears, wide shoulders and a deep voice, claps a hand onto his shoulder.

“Good job.” He says. Keith nods, a small smile making the corners of his lips twitch upwards as he watches Antok’s dark green _Canonazo_ suit shimmer into his normal Town Square attire as they exit the game and enter the long, wide white hallway of the Game Station. Green code shimmers here and there along the walls and the game portals flash and waver as people enter and exit through them.

“Thanks.” Keith replies, ducking his head sheepishly.

“You’ve got good aim. Glad to have you on our team.” Ezor adds, pushing her long pink hair over her shoulder and tucking the strands behind her elf ears before shooting Keith a bright smile, her tall heels clacking along the crisp white tile.

“We’re all going to get something to eat to celebrate!” Zethrid, a tall girl with short dark-purple hair and yellow eyes, booms. “You should come with us!”

 

Keith pauses. He has to get back home to make his dad dinner before six. His index finger twitches against his palm and his Infopad floats in front of his eyes. The glowing blue letters tell the time, the last game he played, the last time he was out of the _Gwan_ , and when he last logged in.

“I’ll go.” Keith finally agrees. “I’ve got time.”

“Where should we eat?” Ezor asks, her big blue eyes moving from each of her friends’ faces for an answer.

“I vote _Shina Suba_.” Antok pipes up.

“They have the best noodles.” Ulaz agrees from the back of the group. He seems to be the same species as Antok, only slightly taller and with more chiseled features.

Ezor looks at Keith. “Is that what you want too?” She asks, eyelids heavy.

Keith nods. “Uh, yeah. Sure. That’s fine.”

Ezor gives him another blindingly bright smile and Keith averts his eyes.

 

Instead he reads all of the game portal entrances and watches the people coming out of them. A girl with hair that looks like it’s made out of flames exits _Diana III,_ orange eyes flashing excitedly. Two boys with the exact same Elven avatars walk out of _Firing Squad: The Rise of The Empire._ An avatar that he can’t put a gender to but has a more masculine body type and animal-like features, shimmers out of the game _Journey Again_. Most of the people in the Game Station though are coming from or to the same game Keith just exited from: _Canonazo_. It’s been voted the top video game on hundreds of sites and online magazines and is basically the hottest game on the market right now.

The exit to the Game Station announces their usernames as they cross through the portal, the male announcer voice overlapping as they all pass under the archway at the same time. They step into Town Square, which is always abuzz and packed with people. There are three different sections to Town Square: New York, Cobblestone Alley, and Downtown Brooklyn.

 

New York  is two long roads surrounded by skyscrapers that shimmer in the prosthetic blue of the sky. Everything looks high-tech and has a modern feel to it. Cobblestone Alley on the other hand, is more like an English village in the 1800s, with cobblestone streets, vendors, old-timey themes and the constant underlying music of cheery flutes. Downtown Brooklyn is based off of Brooklyn in the 1950s. There’s usually live jazz music performers, watery, sometimes sludgy stone streets, and tall brick buildings with retro signs hanging crookedly off their doors.

 

These sections are always filled with people of different species doing different things. Some might be using game credits to change their appearance, some are buying food, some are sight-seeing and some are meeting up with their friends.

 

“I’m so hungry!” Zethrid complains then, stretching her buff arms above her head

“Well we’re on our way to eat now so.” Ezor says flippantly and Zethrid makes a face that causes Keith to hold in a snort.

“Where is _Shina Suba_?” Keith asks. Antok glances at them as the five of them stop in front of the Town Square portal, which is inside a smaller, park type of environment. Benches create a diamond shape where they sit next to each other and a fountain sits in the center of everything. Keith points to the portal that leads to New York- a picture of the Statue of Liberty that seems to constantly waver as people flow in and out of it.

“Isn’t it in New York?”

Ezor nods. “Yeah, it’s in Chinatown.”

 

Keith cranes his neck as he watches the Statue of Liberty flicker as his team crosses through it. And suddenly it’s like they're smack-dab in the heart of New York City. If New York City was overrun by supernatural creatures that is.

 

         Keith’s group has to walk quite a ways down in order to reach _Shina Suba_ and Keith nervously checks the time on his Infopad.

“Do they have the stuffing flavored ramen all year long?” Ulaz asks calmly as the five of them walk into the crowded restaurant.

“Ew, Ulaz.” Ezor says.

“They only have that flavor around Thanksgiving.” Antok informs him with a disgusted scrunch of his facial features.

 

They only have to wait around a few minutes before a waitress that looks like she just stepped out of a Japanese anime ushers them to a table and takes their order. With the swish of a high-level chef from the back of the store, ramen appears on their plates and fifteen diblets each are taken from their user accounts.

 

           Keith doesn't end up saying that much as he quietly eats his Teriyaki flavored noodles. He just kind of listens and nods here and there when needed. He likes his team and all… but he's just never been the type to fully engage with other people.

 

           “I have to go.” Keith pipes up finally.

“Aww Keith. You can't stay for a little longer?” Ezor pleads, leaning forward on the table and stretching her arms across it as if to reach for Keith. He takes a nervous step back.

“No, I have to go now.” He tries to smile. “I'll meet up with you guys tomorrow though for another round.”

“The usual time?” Zethrid inquires. Antok nods and waves at Keith. As a group, they all echo,

“Bye Keeith-” as Keith logs out from his _Gwan_ account and presumably fades from their line of sight.

 

          Keith opens his eyes and blinks sluggishly at the inside of his _Gwan_ . _Gwan_ is the brand that makes the containers that allow full-embodied virtual reality. The container is a little larger than the size of a person, and lays vertical to the ground. The one Keith has is the regular sleek gray design with the basic knobs and buttons. The needle that sends feelings to his nerves retracts from the back of his neck, and it sends a disgusted shiver down Keith's spine at the sensation.

 

         Keith pushes the lid of his _Gwan_ over his head and he sits up, curling his toes against the cold wood floor of his bedroom. His apartment is old and not well maintained. The heater rarely works and there's mildew dripping down the side of the stand-up shower. The floorboards creak and all the shelves in the refrigerator are sticky but it’s where he lives and there’s not much he can do about it. His limbs ache as he rises to his feet- probably sore from laying down for such a long time.

 

Keith shuffles into the single bathroom across the narrow hall to relieve himself. After that he washes his hands, splashes some cold water on his face, brushes his teeth and tugs his messy, overgrown hair into a ponytail at the crown of his head. His dad is always telling him to get it cut but Keith doesn’t mind it longer.

 

When he ventures into the rest of the apartment, he sees that his father still hasn’t come home from work yet. Keith sighs. On Saturdays, his dad gets off work at five, and since it’s now 5:45 pm and there’s still no sign of him, that means he went out drinking with some of his work buddies again. If Keith is being honest with himself, this happens more weekend nights than it doesn’t so he’s not all that surprised. Just disappointed. Disappointed because when his dad drinks he gets mean. And he rants. He gives Keith long, rude lectures that weigh heavily on Keith’s heart.

 

He’ll still be expecting dinner though. With this in mind, Keith rolls up his sleeves to his elbows and checks to make sure the chicken he set in the sink earlier today is fully defrosted. As he was growing up, dinner was the one thing his dad always expected from him after his mom died. His dad said he wouldn’t bother Keith, that he could do what he wanted and live in his house so long as he made dinner for him to come home to after work. Keith agreed of course. His dad said it was the least Keith could do for being taken care of.

 

Keith cracks two eggs in a bowl before dipping the raw chicken breasts into the yolk and sprinkling breading over them. He pauses, staring at the uncooked food on the plate in front of him.

 

When Keith was a kid, maybe five or six, he was helping him mom make baked chicken when she remembered they didn’t have any breadcrumbs. Keith suggested using Cinnamon Toast Crunch instead and he ended up helping her crush the cereal in a bag and using it as makeshift bread crumbs. Every time he helped her make baked chicken after that, they always used Cinnamon Toast Crunch. He remembers the way his mom crouched in front of him and remorsefully told him they couldn’t have ‘yummy chicken’ for dinner. Keith remembers her bright, bubbly laugh and wide smile when the bag ripped and half of the crushed cereal inside managed to get all over the counter. He remembers her fond, loving expression when he took a bite of the concoction they had made, his eyes widening in pleasant surprise.

 

Keith blinks, processing the cracked counter he’s been staring at before wiping the bread crumbs off his fingers and reluctantly setting the chicken into a shallow pan and putting the whole thing into the pre-heated oven.  A glance at the clock on the oven tells him that it’s 6:15. Keith turns and leans his weight back against the handle of the oven, rubbing both of his hands over his face. He stays like that a few long moments, focusing on his breathing.

 

Finally Keith pulls away, running his gaze over the kitchen counters. Not seeing his phone there, he shuffles back to his room. His outdated iPhone 4x sits on his nightstand wedged between his _Gwan_ and his bed. He unlocks his smartphone and goes to his recent contacts and calls his dad’s number.

 

Robert answers on the third ring.

“Yeah?” He slurs into the receiver.

Keith winces. “Dad?” He questions hesitantly.

“Yeah, Keith. What do you want?”

“Uh. I just wanted to tell you that dinner will be in the microwave when you get here. I have work at seven.” Keith tells him.

His dad grunts over a loud burst of laughter that presumably comes from his work buddies. “Okay.” He says finally. “Thanks for dinner son.”

Keith holds back a loud sigh. “No problem dad.” He answers. “Have fun.”

“Yep. Be safe.” Robert adds before hanging up.

 

Keith leans on the counter, palms pressed into the linoleum in order to ground himself. His dad tries. He does. But Keith knows his dad isn’t the same since his mom died. He knows Keith looks like the spitting image of his mom. He knows it hurts his dad to be around him. After another shaky exhale, Keith pulls away from the counter and goes to his room to get dressed in his work uniform. The bus that takes him to work comes at 6:30 so he’s got to hurry up and put the chicken on a plate and get it into the oven.

 

After he plates his dad’s dinner and shoves his own piece of chicken into his mouth, he throws his work bag over his shoulder and shuts and locks the door behind him. He pauses when he feels eyes on him and slowly turns to peek over his shoulder. Standing across the hall to his apartment is a tall boy around his own age, with long limbs, warm skin, blue eyes and cropped brown hair watching him, paused in his own doorway as if he was also just leaving his apartment.

 

Keith struggles for a few seconds to swallow a bite of chicken whilst still holding the piece between his teeth before he’s finally able to grab the end of it with his fingers.

“Uh.” Keith says intelligently.

The guy breaks out into an amused smile and rocks back on his heels, finishing pulling his own key from his front door. “So you’re my neighbor?” The guy says. “I’m guessing.”

Keith shrugs. “I guess?”

He frowns. “Well do you live in that apartment?” He asks, nodding to the door behind Keith.

Keith nods. “Yeah so… I guess I am your neighbor?”

The guy snorts, eyes darting over Keith’s uniform. “You work at Publix?”

Keith nods jerkily and takes another bite of his chicken. He’s really hungry.

“Well um.” The guy holds out his hand and Keith hurriedly holds his chicken in his mouth as he wipes his hand on his pant leg and returns the handshake. “I’m Lance.” He says.

“Keith.” Keith says with his mouth full.

“Nice to meet you, neighbor.” Lance says cheerfully.

Keith side-eyes him rather suspiciously. “Yeah…” He trails as he starts down the hallway.

“I’m actually leaving too.” Lance says after a brief pause, trotting to Keith’s side.

“Oh yeah?” Keith mumbles around his last bite of chicken, closing his eyes for a second to mourn the loss of his food and wish he had seconds.

“Yep. I’m meeting up with a few friends before I have a shift at the coffee shop down the street. Do you know it? Java Trip? It has the little coffee cup man on the sign.” Lance rambles as they both enter the stairwell (the lift is out of order). Keith wonders why this guy he just met is telling him his life story and hears himself say,

“I didn’t ask…”

 

Keith winces when he realizes how that sounded. He could always apologize. He didn’t _mean_ to be rude to the guy. He really just isn’t interested in his plans. It doesn’t affect or involve him at all.

“Um.” Lance scoffs, sounding offended. “Okay then.”

Keith peeks at him out of the corner of his eye. When he sees he has indeed, pissed him off without meaning to, he huffs. He’s adds, ‘Nice neighbor kid that seemed to want to make friends’ to the list of people he’s unintentionally upset and never had the nerve to apologize to.

 

“I have to catch the bus.” Keith says instead and he speeds up his pace through the stairwell, watching as his old black athletic shoes speed down the brightly carpeted steps that transition into white-spotted tile once he reaches the lobby. He’s blasted with a burst of chilly February air and he sticks his hands in his khakis pockets and hunches his shoulders in an attempt to keep out the cold. He coughs in the smoggy air and his feet scuff along the pavement until he reaches his bus stop.

 

The streets around him are empty- most likely due to the law passed three years ago that made all casual use of vehicles illegal in order to reduce pollution. Since then, the price of cars have went through the roof, roads have been torn up in order to build buildings closer together so that neighborhoods are within walking distance; similar to China in the early 2000’s. Now there are only electric buses that drive up and down the long roads for people who can’t afford cars to drive to work.

 

There’s a few other people waiting at the bus stop: a girl with insanely long dark hair, a suspicious guy in a big coat, and a middle-aged man staring at his phone. Standing a few paces away, Keith pats down his pockets and finds his smooshed pack of cigarettes and pulls it out. He glances to the suspicious coat guy to his immediate left.  
“Do y’have a light?” He asks.

The guy pulls a light out of his back pocket and offers it to Keith, who takes it with a mumbled,

“Thanks man.” And lights his cigarette, watching the embers glow before settling. A few ashes float to the ground and he grinds them into the ground with the toe of his shoe.

 

Now his clothes are going to smell like sickly sweet peaches- an improvement from the way tobacco used to smell he supposes. He also has to breathe in a prescription that lessens the effects of the tar on his lungs over time so that he doesn’t get cancer by the time he’s forty. He hands the lighter back to its owner before taking a slow drag from his cigarette, his muscles relaxing and his head growing a little lighter on his shoulders. He exhales the smoke through his nose, tipping his head back and watching the smoke billow out in the cold air in front of him.

 

The bus screeches to a stop in front of him a few minutes later and he snuffs out his cigarette on the pole next to him before shoving the remnants of the cigarette back into its’ box. The bus driver eyes Keith distastefully as he shows him his bus pass.

 

Keith only has to ride the bus a few minutes before it’s jarring to a stop in front of the plaza his workplace is in. As he steps off the bus, as scream stops him in his tracks and he jumps, gaze swinging up to land on a pretty girl shrieking about something. Though he tries his best to make out her words, he finds that he can’t. The woman grips her throat, eyes bulging out of her head as though some invisible force is choking the life force out of her. People are stopped in their tracks, confused as the woman goes limp and falls heavily to the ground, groceries scattering about her as the bags she was carrying fall onto their sides.

 

Keith, only a few paces away from the woman, finds himself rushing over and pressing his thumb to her soft wrist.

“I-I don’t feel a pulse!” Keith yells, panicked.

A hand on his shoulder causes Keith to look over his shoulder from where he crouches by the woman on his knees.

“Let me see son.” The kind older man says, voice firm but gentle at the same time.

Keith nods and stands, watching in a sort of daze as the man proceeds to give the woman CPR. Keith feels as if he’s watching the whole scene from far away, an almost out of body experience.

 

It isn’t until a paramedic gently jostles his shoulder and asks him if he’s alright, does Keith come rushing back into his head. Nausea grips his gut something fierce and Keith wraps his arms around his torso, leaning forward to shield himself away from his own panic. The paramedic repeats his question and Keith stares as the woman’s face is covered with a white sheet as they load the gurney onto the ambulance.

 

“I’m fine.” Keith finally chokes out. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” The paramedic asks.

Keith heaves in a breath, chest tight. He is most certainly not alright. He fumbles with his pockets and takes out his half-smoked cigarette, fingers fumbling in the cold. Keith remembers he doesn’t have a lighter on him and actually feels his eyes sting with overwhelmed tears.

“I’m having a panic attack.” Keith finally admits, voice barely a wheeze,

“It’s okay sir.” The paramedic reassures him. “Just take deep breaths.”

“I need a light.” Keith manages.

“Tobacco won’t be best right now-” The paramedic tries, eyebrows furrowing in worry and frustration.

Keith looks up into the guy’s face, studies his shaggy blond hair and bored expression.

 

“It’ll be best if you just take deep breaths-” He’s still talking.

“I don’t need to breathe, I just need a fucking light.” Keith snaps, voice cracking. He runs a hand over his face in shame but someone to his left barks out a laugh.

“I have a lighter in my bag if you want to let him use it Rolo.” Another paramedic- the source of the laughter- says helpfully as she messes with some kind of first-aid bag in the back of a second ambulance.

The first paramedic, Rolo, straightens then. “Smoking isn’t good for you.” He says, his voice smooth but also condescending.

Keith shrugs and waves him off. “I take my medicine.” He assures him.

“That won’t help if you-”

Keith exhales a long shuddering breath, effectively cutting him off.

“Fine.” Rolo deadpans, reluctantly catching the lighter tossed to him from the blond paramedic in the ambulance. He hands it to Keith, who repeats the process of lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag.

 

After a few puffs, the nausea and the clench of his heart begins to recede. Keith feels his heart rate slow and the tension slips from his shoulders. He pulls his together enough to side-eye the Rolo guy, cigarette held precariously between his lips.

“I don't smoke that much.” Keith tries to reassure him. “Usually just when I'm especially... “ Keith struggles to find the right word. Stressed? No. Keith is always stressed but that's not it. Maybe detached or numb is the right word. Sad. He exhales a hard puff of sickly sweet smelling smoke in frustration as Rolo watches him expectantly.

 

          “Nevermind.” Keith grumbles, the effort of trying to communicate with another human effectively causes the beginning of a headache to itch at Keith's temples.

“It's really not good to smoke so often when you're so young-” Rolo frowns. “How old are you anyway?”

Keith pauses, ninety-nine percent sure that his blatant guilt it written clearly across his face for a moment before he can wipe it away. He shrugs, eyes averted. It doesn't help his case that the legal age to smoke tobacco was raised to twenty-one seven or so years ago.

“If you don't show me your ID I'm going to have a police officer look at it instead.” Rolo threatens, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning.

 

        Keith sighs. “Seventeen.” He answers finally. Slight surprise crosses over Rolo’s features before he returns to looking bothered. He hums.

       “You're not even legal yet.” He says and Keith nods. “Nyma, I swear.” Rolo growls and Keith looks up questioningly. Rolo turns to the friendly blond paramedic who's cleaning a needle with a sanitary rag as other paramedics and newly-arrived police officers buzz around, checking to see if everyone in the immediate area is alright.

“What?” Nyma asks innocently, batting her eyelashes. “At least we aren't dealing with a minor having an anxiety attack.”

Rolo huffs and Keith raises his eyebrows at him in agreement.

“Do you have any parent or guardian you could call?” Rolo asks, sounding fed up.

Keith cringes. His dad would probably be blackout drunk if he even answered his phone. He shakes his head in answer.

“There's no need.” Keith tries flippantly. “I still have a shift to get to.” He gestures to the Publix in front of them.

 

        Rolo studies him for a moment.

“Are you sure you're alright?” He asks, eyes searching, and Keith doesn't know whether he's asking about what just happened or if he's asking what's wrong like, in general. So Keith just nods.

“Yeah.” He says as the last of his cigarette crumbles and the ashes float to the cracked pavement. “I’ve got a shift to get to.” Keith repeats shortly. He takes a glance around at the police officers talking to people nearby. “Do I need to be questioned?”

Rolo shrugs. “Probably. Maybe call your work and tell them the situation? I’m sure they’ll understand. It’ll be best to stick around for a little while.”

 

Keith reluctantly calls his manager and begins to explain what happened, but he cuts Keith off because, unsurprisingly he already has heard about what happened and instructs Keith to take his time but to come in when he’s able. He tells him that his coworker is covering for him and Keith hangs up shortly after.

 

A cop does, as expected, make his way over to Keith and question him about what he saw. Keith tells him what he knows and the police officer seems satisfied as he slides his stylist into the slot on the side of his iPad.

“Thank you for cooperating. You may go about your day now. Have a good one.” He says rather mechanically, tipping his head and tucking his device back into his belt.

 

Keith sighs, sliding his fingers into his hair, accidentally tugging the strands out of its’ ponytail in the process. He checks into work, mourning the past few hours he lost from his pay check later this month. He tugs an apron around his waist and is about to go take on a checkout station when his co-worker, Hunk, who Keith was supposed to take over his shift for, comes in, pulling his own apron off over his head and tossing it into one of the full laundry bins.

 

Keith always finds himself surprised by how tall he is, and his dark skin, black eyes and square jaw just made him that much more intimidating. So when he first met him, Keith was critical of the guy. What kind of name is Hunk anyways? But he’s just such a nice guy that he puts anyone he interacts with at immediate ease.

“Hey,” Keith starts apologetically. “Thank you so much for covering for me.”

“It’s no problem.” Hunk scoffs, immediately shaking off Keith’s gratefulness. “I heard what happened. You okay, man?”

“Um.” Keith pauses, a bit taken aback by Hunk’s sincere-sounding concern. He actually feels his cheeks maybe warming the slightest. He’s not used to people caring about his well-being. Not really. So he feels awkward and finds himself cupping the back of his neck as he sheepishly ducks his head. “No. Yeah. I mean-” He gives Hunk a small, albeit crooked smile. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Hunk claps a hand onto Keith’s shoulder, and Keith winces from the unintentional force of it. “That’s good man. I’ve gotta’ go though because I’m actually running late to meet up with some friends but I’ll see you later!” Hunk calls as he retreats back down the employees hallway.

 

**Lance’s POV**

 

Lance sighs, squishing his cheek against his palm as he watches his friend type away on her computer. Pidge’s round glasses reflect the screen of her computer and her dirty-blond hair sticks out wildly around her head in a sort of spiky halo. She doesn’t immediately react to Lance’s obvious misery so he sighs again, louder this time. Her fingers pause mid-type before they continue clacking away at her keys. Lance flops back on the couch, hanging upside down and nudging Pidge’s shoulder with his foot where she sits on the sofa next to him. Just as he takes a deep breath to let out the most pitying sigh yet, Pidge cuts him off with a,

“For God’s sakes Lance. Can’t you be quiet for five minutes?”

“Nooooo.” Lance whines, clenching his abdominal muscles to curl up towards the back of the couch. “I’ve had a bad day and now Hunk is like really late and ignoring our calllssssss.” Lance relaxes his stomach, hands pressing flat against the carpet and heels thumping against the wall above them.

“He probably just got held up at work.” She tells him calmly.

Lance's’ face falls. “Okay wellllll, can we at least order pizza?”  
“Are you going to pay for it?” Pidge asks, fingers a blur against her keyboard.

 

Lance lets out a very loud, long-suffering sigh and slumps back upside down.

“I have Game of Thrones recorded if you wanna’ watch it.” Pidge suggests.

“Ugh, Pidge, are you not caught up with the newest season yet?”

“Nope.” Pidge lets out a breath through her nose and pulls a hand away from her laptop to push her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. “So what has you all huffy anyways?”

“About time you asked!” Lance quickly twists himself around to sit upright.

 

“Okay so, my new apartment?”

“Mh-hm.” Pidge agrees, continuing to type.

“You know how we didn’t see anyone come out of the apartment across from mine and we were like, ‘that’s so weird I wonder if they’re a hermit’.”  
“Yes Lance, I was there, please continue.”

“Okay so, a guy came out of there, and it was a guy like our age.”

“Oh really?” Pidge seems interested at this, pausing in whatever she’s doing on her computer to look Lance in the eye as he continues.

“And he’s hot.” Lance describes. “Like H-O-T hot. Like totally my type, super cute, kind of skinny but like kinda’ tall and maybe asian? Anyways just hella’ cute and hot at the same time and like-”

“Yes Lance I get it, he’s attractive.” Pidge interrupts his rambling.

“Anyways so I’m being all friendly and trying to make conversation. I tell him how I’m going to meet up with some friends and where I work and you know what he says?” Lance pauses but doesn’t really give Pidge enough time to answer. “He says, ‘I didn’t ask’. Like what the heck!”

“You _do_ have a tendency to ramble.” Pidge points out.

“I was just being friendly!” Lance throws his hands up.

“I think you’re just upset because a hot guy blatantly rejected your attempt at flirting.” Pidge says cooly as she continues typing.

Lance splutters as Pidge tries to hold in a laugh.

 

There’s a knock on the door then and Lance jumps up, thankful for an excuse not to reply to Pidge’s sound logic.

“Hunk!” Lance leaps from the sofa and unlocks Pidge’s front door and clambers onto his friend, wrapping his long arms around Hunk’s shoulders. “Hunk I met a cute boy that looks really cute when he talks with his mouth full.”

Hunk barks a surprised laugh and peels Lance off of him. “Oh yeah? Well I covered for a guy that reads ‘Lance’s type’ all over him.”

Lance sits up then, if he had a tail, it would be wagging. “Oh?”  
“Yep. Long dark hair, kind of reminds me of a cat.”

“What’s his name?” Lance prods.

Hunk pauses then. “...dang.”  
“Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“I forgot.”

Lance falls back onto Pidge’s knees, jostling her computer. “Dammit Hunk! Do you at least know any cute girls? I usually prefer girls anyway.”

Pidge gives him a look. “Yeah but you always go on dates with girls and they never end up going anywhere.”

Lance gives her a blank look. “Message is clear Pidge.”

“I’m just callin’ it like I see it.” She says, shrugging one shoulder innocently.

 

“I’m totally up for a round of _Canonazo_ if you guys are though.” Hunk pipes up as he sandwiches himself between his two friends.

“Oh I’m totally down but, dinner?” Lance asks hopefully.

“We can split the price of pizza.” Hunk suggests.

Lance looks to Pidge hopefully who pauses, eye rolling around in her skull as she considers he options. “That could be arranged.” She finally gives in and Lance pumps his fist in triumph and drums on his knees before he rocks to his feet to step into the kitchen to call **Pizza Hut**.

 

“Do you have three _Gwan_ ’s we can use Pidge?”

“Yeah.” She says. “Matt and Shiro won’t be back til’ later, there was an accident today.” Matt is Pidge’s older brother and Shiro is his best friend and Matt and Pidge’s roommate.

“Do you mean the woman who dropped dead?” Hunk says without barely a pause.

“Yeah, did you hear about it?” Pidge closes the lid of her laptop and pushes it to the side off her lap.

“Yeah, my coworker- the one I was telling Lance about- was like tried to help her or something actually. I was covering for him and that’s why I was late coming here.” Hunk explains.

Pidge grabs her ankle and crosses her skinny legs beneath her. “It was a big ordeal. Matt texted me and told me they dunno’ why she died yet but they’ll know after they do a scan on her and get the results back.”

“And how long does that usually take?”

“I dunno’, a few days? Why so interested?”  
“It’s just crazy.” Hunk shakes his head in disbelief. “It happened so close too. My coworker looked a bit shaken up about it. Though it’s hard to tell.” He laughs at that and Pidge blinks at him. “Because he doesn’t really express himself too much.” Hunk explains and Pidge shrugs.

 

“Lance!” Pidge calls suddenly, making Hunk jump. “You done fartin’ around in there and ready to play some kickass _Canonazo_?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance grumbles as he comes in from the kitchen. He grins at them. “I was just ordering a boneless pizza.”

“Oh my god.” Pidge groans and slaps a hand to her face.

“You didn’t.” Hunk says.

“Oh, but I did.” Lance gives another, smug-looking grin before laying across his friend's’ knees.

 

Pidge pushes his legs off and Lance falls to the floor in a heap.

“Hey!” He exclaims as he picks his face up off the carpet. “A little warning would’ve been nice.”  
“You didn’t warn me before you sat on me.” She pointed out, her nose wrinkling.

“Okayyy you two. Time to go play some freaking games!” Hunk says excitedly, successfully interrupting their bickering as he stands and pops his back.

 

“I’ll get something to clean the needles with.” Pidge says as she disappears into the kitchen.

“Can I use Matt’s room?” Lance calls to her.  
“Yeah, sure.” She answers.

“I’m using Shiro’s then.” Hunk tells Lance as he walks down the hallway to Shiro’s room.

 

Lance goes into Matt’s. He would feel a little uncomfortable if it was someone he didn’t know as well, but he’s known Matt since he and Pidge and Hunk were in middle school, so he doesn’t feel bad as he strips down to his underwear and shamelessly uses his _Gwan_ , getting his bodily germs all over it. Pidge knocks on the door and second later. Her skinny hand pops through the crack between the door and the trim and she waves around a disinfectant wipe.

“Thanks Pidge.” Lance tells her as he takes it and shuts the door after her hand has retreated.

Lance crosses the room and opens up the lid to Matt’s _Gwan_ , pulling the needle out of it’s slot and wiping it down with the wipe. He’d clean it after he was done using it too. He would just use his own _Gwan_ but he just moved from his parents house a few months ago, where he shared the _Gwan_ with all of his other siblings, and he can’t afford one right now. He’s saving up for it though and he can borrow Matt’s almost any time so it’s not that big of a deal.

 

Lance slots himself into the _Gwan_ and shivers a little at the chill of the metal against his bare skin. He flutters his eyes closed as the needle pierces the skin at the back of his neck.

 

When he opens his eyes, the world before him is completely different. He’s generated in the meadow, which is one of the default areas you can be transported to. The meadow is covered in bright green grass that sways in the slight breeze that brushes against Lance’s skin. He closes closes his eyes and takes a breath, relishing the smell of fresh, healthy outdoors.

 

A chime interrupts Lance’s relishing and he opens his InfoPad to see two notifications: _‘PidgeonGunderson and HunkyMonkey378 have signed online’._ Lance grins to himself before pressing the ‘call’ button and speaking to his friends.

 

“Where were you guys generated?” He asks.

“ **School of magic.** ” Hunk says, voice slightly muffled. Lance isn't wearing any sort of microphone so his friends’ voices are just coming out of his InfoPad.

“ **I'm in the meadow.** ” Pidge informs them.

“Oh, so am I!” Lance exclaims, peering around. He sees a couple having a picnic in a hill nearby, and another person generates to his right but he doesn't see his friend. “Pidge?” He asks into his InfoPad.

“ **It's fine let's just meet on our team.** ” Pidge instructs.

“ **Sounds good.** ” Hunk agrees.

 

        Lance clicks on the ‘portals’ tab on his InfoPad before choosing the GameStation. His stomach swoops as he transported to the entrance of the GaneStation, the arched way standing tall and glowing a familiar, welcoming blue. He parts through the entrance.

 

        Lance pushes through the throngs of people filing in and out games on either side of him and makes his way to the game toward the back of the station. It's letters are huge and glowing, seemingly a bit bigger than other game logos. ‘ _Canonazo_ ’.

 

        As Lance pushes through the wavering entrance, his _Canonazo_ armor appears in his limbs. Black shoulder plates, blue chest armor, a blue and black helmet and a blue visor over his eyes, a Mic to communicate to his team through, and dark blue tall military boots. His avatar looks like his real self, which probably isn't the best for his safety but when the _Gwan_ came out with a new software that scanned your features he couldn't turn it down.

 

          Lance opens his _Canonazo_ InfoPad and clicks on battle mode. His teammates that are logged on will be automatically entered into the game.

“ **I wanted to do some target practice first!** ” Pidge whines in his ear, voice coming out of Lance’s helmet.

“Fight now, practice later.” Lance says shortly and he hears Hunk laugh over the line.

 

          As Lance is transported into the game and gets a look at his surroundings, he lets out a whoop. Why? Because his team just landed the best. Map. Ever!!!

“ **Lance please, my ears cannot handle your excitement.** ” Hunk pleads and lance reluctantly lowers his volume.

“Where are you guys at?” He asks.

“ **I'm by the giant fishbowl.** ” Pidge informs them.

“ **I'm in the barn by the blue house.** ” Hunk says.

“Okay Pidge, I'm comin’ to you.” Lance cackles into his mic.

“ **Spare me.** ” Pidge mutters and Lance lets out a defensive,

“Hey!”

 

          “ **I've got two guys over here.** ” Hunk calls and Lance hears three shots go off.

“Jeez Hunk, it took you _three_ shots?” Lance scoffs teasingly. “What a noob.”

Hunk lets out a bark of a laugh. “ **Shut up Lance**.” He tells him, his words lacking any real bite.

“You love me.” Lance says absently before, “Pidge on your right!” He lifts his arm and shoots off a round at an that was attempting to sneak up on Pidge. The girls’ head knocks back and she falls limply, not having a chance to hit the ground before her body scatters into a dozen pixels to be regenerated in a different place on the map.

 

         “ **That's three kills!** ” Pidge exclaims as Lance jogs up to her side. She and Hunk also look like their real-life selves, except Pidge is decked out in green armor- because she's the tracker of the group, and Hunk in all yellow armor- because he's the healer. Lance is the group's sharpshooter.

 

          Usually a team has four members, and technically Matt and Shiro are on their team but they usually play other games when they sign into their accounts, not _Canonazo._ Shiro is usually their swordsman though, and Matt is a tracker like his sister. Lance, Pidge and Hunk make do with three members and they've been well-off without a fourth member thus far.

 

            That is until three games later. They _were_ doing great on their own. Lance had noticed that the team they were playing against didn't have a swordsman  and assumed that they just lacked one like his own team or maybe he was offline. That was until Pidge suddenly yelped in his ear and Lance was suddenly pushed to the ground. His shoulder slams into the faux pavement and he winces in pain as his HP lowers.

 

            A swordsman in red armor is darting towards Lance’s dazed form, blade held at the ready. His red tinted visor is covering part of his face, so Lance can't tell 100% for sure, but he thinks this guy is using his real-life appearance like Lance’s team. You can tell relatively easily by the  distinct and more varied features. The guy is also hot- and slightly familiar but Lance can't really tell between the reflection of his visor and Lance frantically trying to get up and escape his attack.

 

              But the guy is _fast_ and Lance is falling to the ground faster than he can blink. He barely catches sight of the Swordsman trading his sword for a sniper rifle with a blade sticking out of the end before he pixelates into the air. Pidge announces his death over the mics as Lance regenerates on a different part of the map.

 

                Pidge informs her friends of Hunk’s and her own death.

“Man, what the hell?!” Lance curses. “We were on a good winning streak too!”

“ **We've just gotta’ figure out to take down this team's Swordsman**.” Pidge says cooly.

“And how do you suppose we do that, Your Smartness?” Lance asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“ **Lance, don’t be an asshole.** ” Hunk tsks and Lance groans.

“We were doing so gooood!” Lance whines, actually stamping his foot against the concrete below his feet. He practically hears Pidge roll her eyes over the mics. Lance glances about for any sign of the opposing team. “Does anyone have visuals?” Lance asks, tone now serious.

 

          Lance just catches something out of the corner of his eye before his second life is taken.

“Fuck!” He cries as the ‘ _You are dead_ ’ letters float in front of his face as he's suddenly standing in an all white room, listening to his teammates voices in his helmet.

“ **Lance is down.** ” He hears Pidge tell Hunk.

“ **So am I.** ” Hunk laughs incredulously.

“ **Just me left-** ” There's a crackle that cuts Pidge off mid-sentence and the words, ‘ _You are dead’_ are replaced by the words, ‘ _Game Over_ ’.

 

          In an angry huff, Lance opens his InfoPad and logs out of his account. He opens his eyes and blinks angrily at the inside of Matt’s _Gwan_. He pushes open the lid and throws in his clothes before he storms into the kitchen to get cleaning spray from the cabinet under the kitchen sink.

 

          Shiro is standing in the kitchen, in the middle of heating up leftover food in the microwave. He eyes Lance as he slams the cabinet closed and wordlessly returns to Matt’s room and wipes his _Gwan_ down. When he comes back into the kitchen, Shiro is calmly eating his food. Lance lets his eyes roam appreciatively over Shiro’s tall, fit physique and grabs a fork from the drawer to his left and steals one of his Philadelphia rolls. Shiro tries to snatch it away from him, but Lance pops it into his mouth before he can. Lance raises his eyebrows in challenge, wanting to make a smartass comment about Shiro’s hair- which is black and cropped close to his head and towards his hairline, where bangs might go, is a shock of white fringe that partially hides one eye- but finds his mouth is too full to successfully form a sentence.

“Oi.” Shiro says lazily, shooting Lance a slightly annoyed, albeit amused look.

 

        “Lance, why did you log off!?” Pidge calls from her room.

Lance let's lets out a sufferable sigh as he chews his food. Shiro raises his eyebrows at him and Lance shrugs.

“Because he got triggered by that swordsman.” Hunk says calmly as he leans against the doorway to the kitchen.

Lance grumbles something angrily in Spanish as he wordlessly holds the spray cleaner out to Hunk.

“Thank you.” Hunk hums and heads back down the hallway as Pidge passes him walking in the opposite direction.

“Hey Shiro,” Pidge greets, reaching an arm over and snatching a Dynamite roll.

“Would you all stop stealing my sushi?” Shiro laughs through a mouthful.

“Never.” Pidge promises. She fixes her caramel gaze on Lance.

 

“Are you done pouting now?” She asks, crossing her arms across her chest and leaning on the counter next to Shiro.

Lance goes to answer but Hunk cuts him off with, “Yes he is.” Lance snaps his mouth closed and sends Hunk a glare. “I saved their team name so we can challenge them to a rematch later.”

Lance pauses, pondering for a brief second before smiling. “You know me well.” He concedes and Hunk wraps an arm around Lance’s shoulders, rubbing his knuckles into his hair and making him wince. “Hey!” Lance protests, an ugly laugh bursting from his chest as he ducks out from under Hunk’s arm and darting out to steal more of Shiro’s sushi.

 

“Okay, I guess I’ll just eat later.” Shiro deadpans.

“Sorry _dad_.” Pidge says with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah,” Lance agrees before winking. “Sorry daddy.”

“ _Lance_.” Shiro scolds, sputtering as he shoves his styrofoam box of leftover food into the fridge. He sets a hand on his hip and gives Lance a disappointed, but not really surprised, look.

Lance shrugs one shoulder. “I am newly in touch with my bisexuality but even before that I couldn't help but notice-”

Hunk covers Lance’s mouth with his hand. “Okay Lance, we're not making everyone in this room uncomfortable because you can't keep your mouth shut.”

 

“Anyways,” Pidge says, abruptly turning the conversation in a different direction. **“** Where's Matt?”

Shiro sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. “Matt is currently being an asshole.” He sums up as he walks into the living room and plops on the couch. The other three follow him without really thinking about it, Hunk sitting on Shiro’s right, Lance smooshing himself between the arm of the couch and Hunk, and Pidge sits cross-legged at their feet, back against Hunk’s calves.

 

“How do you mean he's being an asshole?” Pidge prods, head topping back as he aims her gaze at Shiro expectantly.

“Okay so,” Shiro starts. “This weekend I have a family thing to go to. I'm actually driving down south because the only other family that lives up this way is my cousin and his dad- my uncle. So Matt decided to go out and but buy me multiple Hawaiian ‘dad shirts’ to wear while I'm there.”

Lance barks out a laugh. “I would pay money to see that.”

“But you don't _have_ to wear them, right?” Hunk asks hesitantly.

Shiro fixes the three of them with a deadpan stare. “The thing about being friends with someone for a long time, is that they're able to collect plenty of blackmail material over the year.”

Lance howls and slaps his hand down on his knee in hysteria. Pidge let's out a laugh as well and Hunk struggles to hold in his giggles.

 

“What day are you leaving?” Lance gets out, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Seven on Saturday morning and I'm driving back Sunday.” He informs them.

Lance nods seriously. “I'll make sure to be here early enough to see you in your dad outfit.”

Shiro throws a pillow at Lance and Pidge snorts in amusement.

 

The front door jingles then before swinging open. Matt grins widely at all of them, proudly setting down three plastic bags full of brightly colored tops. Matt is the spitting image of his sister, just taller with slightly longer dirty-blond hair and no glasses. He holds out his hands, palms up.

“Ta-da!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly this is just important character development featuring slight plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no beta and I write a lot of this fic on my phone so if there's some errors that make you OCD just let me know. 
> 
> Also thanks to everyone who subscribed/commented/ kudosed/bookmarked This story on the first chapter. It was greatly appreciated and definetly encouraged me to write more. 
> 
> So here you go, posted on time. Enjoy and have a Happy Thanksgiving~!

Keith's dad didn't tell him about the upcoming family get-together until three days ago, on Wednesday when he got home from a lecture and not even that, he failed to mention how Keith was actually going with his cousin and that he himself, would not be attending. So, needless to say, Keith is ticked off. He's climbing the steps to his cousin's apartment, or what he  _ hopes _ is his apartment since he entered the address into his phone and his phone's GPS can't be trusted 100%. 

 

        When he reached apartment 3F, he knocks and waits, hand falling to his side limply. The door swings open suddenly and Keith starts. 

“Keith!” Matt says, wrapping an arm around Keith's shoulders and directing him inside. Keith slips his shoes off without thinking about it and Matt chuckles. Keith looks at him questioningly. “Nothing.” Matt assures him. “Just, Shiro always takes his shoes off at the door too.” 

Keith feels his cheeks heat slightly and he shrugs, not sure how to answer. 

“Hey Keith!” Pidge calls from the living room, where she sits with her feet on the coffee table, laptop balanced on her knees. 

“Hey Pidge, how are you?” Keith asks politely. 

 

When Keith’s mom was still alive, he used to be really close with Shiro, and Matt and Pidge as result since Matt and Shiro were best friends. He’s actually been looking forward to seeing him ever since his dad bothered to tell Keith that Shiro was driving him.

 

“I’m great, actually. How’ve you been?” Pidge asks sincerely. 

“M’good.” Keith answers with a bob of his head as he looks around. “So this is your new place?” 

“Yeah.” Matt says, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants as he rocks back on his heels. “We had to get a bigger place when Pidgey moved in.” He juts a thumb over his shoulder in the direction where PIdge is sitting. She makes a face over Matt’s shoulder and Keith feels the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. 

“Yeah,” Keith agrees. He’s about to ask something else but a knock on the front door interrupts him. 

 

Keith moves to the side to let Matt answer the door. 

“Is that-?” Matt asks Pidge over his shoulder. 

“Yes.” She sighs, setting her laptop to the side on the couch beside her as her brother answers the door. 

“Hey Lance, what’re you doing-” 

A tall, lanky boy bursts through their front door. “Where’s Shiro in his dad clothes?” He demands loudly. Keith winces. Lance spins glances down the hallways, still apparently haven’t noticed Keith yet, who stands quietly to the side. Keith’s eyes sweep over the boy before him, taking in his loose,  tank top that hangs low on his shoulders, swooping far below his collarbones and sweatpants that hang low on his hips.

 

Lance turns then, his gaze immediately narrowing as he points an accusing finger at Keith.

"You!" He gasps.

"What?" Keith asks, confused.

"You're that jerk!" Lance continues.

Keith tilts his head in confusion. "I'm a what?"

 

There's a long silence then, before it's broken by Pidge saying,

"Ohhhh." In realization before she bursts into a fit of giggles.

"You don't remember me!?" Lance demands incredulously and Keith slowly shakes his head, unsure of how he should answer. "We literally met like a week ago." Lance insists, eyebrows raised as he waits for it to click in Keith's head. Keith tries to meet Matt's gaze to ask him for help but Lance throws up his hands. "We're neighbors!"

"Ohhhh." Keith echoes Pidge as he finally remembers. "We only met once right?"

"Uh, yeah! But you were a total jerk to me!" Lance sounds offended.

Keith's eyebrows furrow. "I'm a- sorry?" Keith tries and Lance throws his hands up.

 

"Are you sure Keith was being rude?" Matt asks hesitantly, setting a hand on Lance's shoulder. "That doesn't sound like Keith."

"Yes, I'm  _ sure _ ." Lance insists, crossing his arms over his chest and throwing his nose into the air. "What is Billy Ray Cyrus doing here anyway?" He juts his thumb as Keith, who's face screws up in confusion.

"'Billy Ray Cyrus'?" Keith demands.

"Because of your ugly mullet." Lance sniffs.

"Ugly- You're the one in a fuck-boy tank top!" Keith accuses, anger rising in his belly.

"'Fuck-boy'?!?" Lance gasps, turning to Keith and pressing his finger into the middle of his chest, enunciating each few words with another jab of his finger. "I'll have you know," Jab. "That this is perfectly," Jab. "acceptable and STYLISH," Jab. "clothing to wear to bed and for a quick run over to a friends house!" Before he can jab again, Keith knocks his hand away from his chest.

 

"And who're you to talk anyway?" Lance challenges then, getting close enough to Keith's face that Keith can feel Lance's breath ruffle his bangs. "You're wearing all black! Are you some emo kid from my mom's decade?"

 

"Guys, guys." Shiro says as he exits his bedroom, a red, flowery shirt covering his torso paired with cargo shorts and a big brown duffel bag gripped in his left hand. "What's going on?"

"Shiro-" Matt starts before Keith is cutting him off.

"At least I don't look like a douchey hypebeast." Keith hisses.

Lance gasps dramatically. "Take that back mullet." He orders, voice low and blue eyes piercing as they hold Keith's gaze.

"Make me." Keith shoots back.

Lance pauses, lips lifting in a knowing smirk before he leans in closer, mouth by Keith's cheek as he breathes, "You wish."

 

Keith lets out a frustrated yell and launches himself at Lance. They both tumble to the ground, and Keith gets the satisfaction of hearing Lance's breath knocked from his lungs before Shiro is gripping Keith by the hips and manually lifting him off of Lance.

"Shiro!" Keith objects.

"Keith!" Shiro scolds as he plops Keith back on his feet, hands moving to grab Keith by his shoulders to keep him in place. Keith frowns and his mouth snaps shut. He tries to meet Shiro's gaze with an innocent expression but he's sure it comes of as guilty.

 

"Seriously, I haven't seen you in a year and you fight with a close friend of mine?" Shiro adds, expression disappointed and confused.

"I'm sorry." Keith sighs, guilt weighing so heavily on his shoulders that he feels suddenly nauseous.

Shiro looks at him for a few more seconds, as if making sure Keith is really sorry for what he did, before whipping around to Lance who has been helped to his feet by Matt.

 

"And you." Shiro says, pointing a finger at Lance. "What the hell was that?! My family comes over and you have to start beef with him?"

Lance's jaw drops. "He's-" He waves at Keith with a frantic hand. "The guy with the mullet? Keith? Is your family?!"

Shiro nods. "He's my cousin." He says, setting his hands on his hips.

"Well you're cousin's an asshole who makes bad first impressions." Lance informs him, sounding entitled.

 

Matt rubs a hand down his face. "I'm going back to bed." He sighs. "Bye Keith, it was nice seeing you."

Keith gives a small wave, caught slightly off-guard. Matt opens the second door to the left and slips inside, shutting it tightly behind him.

 

Keith pauses. Is that really what Lance is all worked up about? Because Keith said ' _ I didn’t ask _ ' a few weeks ago? Keith is really bad at talking to new people. He wasn't  _ trying  _ to hurt Lance's feelings... It just sort of happened. And then it wasn't like Keith could go back and apologize. Well, he  _ could _ but Keith didn't have the balls.

 

Keith swallows, bending his knees slightly in order to inconspicuously pick up his bag he had set on the floor.

 

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad." Shiro insists. "You always take things the wrong way or make them out to be more dramatic than they actually are."

Lance's mouth opens and closes a few times before he finally says, "Well this time I'm not! I'm not going to be nice to someone who acts like an asshole to me!"

 

Keith's eyes flicker over to where Pidge sits on the couch, intelligent eyes flicking from side to side as Shiro and Lance argue. Feeling Keith's gaze on her, Pidge meets Keith's eyes. Keith gives a barely-there smile, trying even though he can feel how strained it is plastered on his face.

 

And then Keith turns and walks out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him as he walks back down the stairs and towards the bus stop that will take him home. 

 

**Lance's P.O.V**

 

The sound of the door shutting interrupts Lance and Shiro's heated discussion.

"What the-" Shiro mutters, opening his front door and calling, "Keith! Where are you going? ...Keith!" before shutting his door back and glaring at Lance.

"That boy needs to go to therapy." Pidge mutters from the couch, picking back up her laptop and returning it to her lap.

Shiro nods wordlessly in agreement and stares at his front door for a few long seconds before whipping around on his heels.

 

"Lance." He says. Lance presses his lips together, refusing to feel the guilt rising in his stomach. "Keith has... Gone through a lot. Okay? He's also bad at communicating with people. And he's impulsive... and hotheaded... But! The thing is," Shiro gestures to the door with a hand. "He always runs away from his problems, from conflict. He doesn't know how to apologize to people without being prompted to, he just avoids that person altogether. You can't just go around being an asshole to him. He's been through a lot- is still going through a lot."

"All teens and young people have problems." Lance shrugs off.

"Lance." Shiro reprimands. "You don't know what kind of problems people deal with. So go apologize to him and convince him to come back!"

"Why don't you just do it?" Lance whines.

"Because you need to realize that your actions and the way you treat people don't just effect you. And you need to clean up your own goddamn mess for once in your life."

 

"Harsh." Pidge mutters.

Lance sighs. "Okay, okay. Fine. I'll apologize to him."

"He's waiting at the bus stop down the street." Shiro tells Lance as he ushers him out the door. "If you don't bring Keith back I'm not letting you use Matt's  _ Gwan  _ for a month."

"A month!?" Lance exclaims.

 

Shiro shuts the door in his face.

 

Lance turns and sighs, running a hand down his face. Why did he always manage to get himself into these situations? The nearest bus stop is down a ways, but he can't see Keith in sight so he assumed the asshole must've been bookin’ it. The image of Keith running away as Shiro pops his head out of his apartment's’ front door and calls after his cousin almost makes Lance laugh. 

 

Lance fished his phone out of the front pocket of his sweatpants and glances at the time. 

“Goddammit.” He mutters before running full speed down the street. Lance sees the bus, squealing around the corner at the far end of the street. Lance narrows his eyes and conjuring up some old Too Fast Too Furious music in his head as he races the bus on who can get to the bus stop first. Since the bus is very slow and Lance is a lot closer to their destination, he wins but Lance still counts it as a victory. 

 

“Keith!” He calls once he's in earshot. He's not quite sure which one of the hooded figures is Keith, but he assumes the one that turned at the sound of his name is. 

“Lance?” Keith asks, frowning as he watches Lance stop in front of him and brave his hands on his knees, winded from sprinting. 

“Keith!’ Lance pants. “Do-don't get on the bus!’ 

“Why.” Keith demands. 

Lance gives him a stink eye as he stands upright. “Because-” Lance blows out his cheeks in aggravation. “Because-” 

Keith's eyes dart toward the bus stopping a few feet away from them and takes a step back. Lance, sensing that he's going to try and make a run for it, places his hands on Keith's shoulders as the rest of the words tumble out of his mouth. “I'm sorry I called you an asshole my feelings were just hurt because I originally wanted to be your friend but you blew me off and now Shiro wants me to apologize and bring you back but I'm not sorry for for calling your mullet ugly.” 

 

Keith blinks at Lance with wide, dark eyes for several moments. But then Keith's lips part as the bus drives away and-

Lance feels his own eyes widen as giggles fall out of Keith's mouth. It's the first time Lance has seen him smile and it manages to warm his heart in a way that- ...isn't completely unexpected considering Lance's initial attraction to the guy. Attraction that Lance had forgotten about until now, and he has the very strong urge to swipe Keith's hood off of his head and stroke his hair out of his face.

 

“S-sorry.” Keith struggles to get out between lingering chuckles. “My hair isn't even a mullet.” He tries to convince Lance, a smile still on his face, eyes bright. 

“It's totally a mullet.” Lance assures, nodding his head.   

“I just have bangs.” Keith argues, but his tone is playful, as if he’s still holding back giggles. 

Lance sticks his tongue out, making a face. “It's fringe.” 

Keith rocks forward on his toes, shoe soles digging into the wet cement, face only a few inches from Lance's as he says, “Still bangs.” 

“Okay,” Lance pauses, flicking Keith's dark hood off of his head. “Then you're either an emo kid with a bad mullet or a coconut head. Pick your poison.” 

 

The corner of Keith's mouth curves in a smirk as he pushes past Lance without saying anything and heads back towards Shiro’s apartment. Lance chuckled through his nose and let's his eyes travel down Keith's back and linger on the seat of his pants. Keith is a skinny boy so he's not the  _ thickest _ he's seen but he still finds himself liking what he sees anyway. 

 

They don't say anything on the walk to the apartment but it's a comfortable silence. Just as they're about to climb the stairs to reach the front door, Keith stops in his tracks and looks at Lance over his shoulder. 

“I'm-” He pauses, turning his head away, not meeting Lance’s eyes as he says, “I'm sorry for being rude when we first met. I'm not good with first impressions.” and with that, he runs up the rest of the stairs and knocks on the door, which Shiro opens right away, not giving Lance any time to answer. 

 

Lance rolls his eyes. This boy runs away from everything doesn't he. Lance let's his palm trail along the railing before he enters the apartment. Pidge is nowhere to be seen, so the gremlin must have scuttled back to her room. Shiro raises his eyebrows at him in a silently impressed look. Lance shoots him a smug look that probably reads as, ‘ _ just who do you think you're dealing with here? _ ’ 

 

**Keith’s P.O.V**

 

“Keith,” Shiro starts as he shuts the apartment door behind him. “I'm sorry for what happened this morning-” 

“It's fine.” Keith cuts him off. “I wanna’ go with you to see family.” 

Shiro let's out a breath of relief and let's his hand fall onto Keith's shoulder. “Good.” He stresses. “Now Lance,” Shiro pauses then, looking between the two of them, contemplating Keith’s sudden change of heart. “...I’ve decided that you and Matt are going with us this weekend.” 

“Okay well I’ll see you soo- What?!” Lance squawks. 

“What?!” Keith agrees. 

Shiro gives Keith a look, a knowing smirk curling his lips, and Keith’s objections die on his tongue as he aims his gaze to the floor. 

 

“Um, I have plans this weekend.” Lance claims. 

“Oh, sorry.” Shiro apologizes, sounding truly bummed. “Guess you won’t get to see all my cute girl cousins and eat my grandma’s cooking.” 

“Your grandma’s cooking?” Lance’s eyes get wide before narrowing, expression contemplating.

“Yeah, bummer.” Shiro starts to usher Lance out the door. “Guess you can go next year.” 

At last second, Lance sticks his foot between the wall and the door. “I’ll go!” He exclaims. “You’ll just have to drive me by my apartment so I can grab some stuff.” 

Shiro gives Lance a bright grin. “Perfect!”

 

“Well,” Shiro says, looking to Keith. “We’re already a bit behind schedule. Are you ready to go?” 

Keith gestures to the bag in his hand by lifting it up for Shiro to see, eyes darting over to Lance nervously. Lance shoves his hands into his pockets, looking sheepish. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Keith tells Shiro. 

 

Matt comes out in a robe over his pajamas then, hair damp from taking a shower to say goodbye to Shiro and Keith. He does so by rubbing a hand through Shiro’s hair, then proceeding to punch him in the shoulder before standing on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Shiro’s shoulders. 

Shiro laughs. “Matt.” He says. 

Matt turns to Keith and wraps his arms around him in a crushing hug, waving at Lance over Keith’s shoulder. 

“Matt.” Keith croaks with a small smile, patting Matt’s shoulder to humor him. “Please. I can’t breathe.” 

Matt laughs loudly, his head falling back on his shoulders as he pulls away. “The same as always Keith.” He says as he cups his chin in his palm, feeling the impending stubble there. “Now I’m gonna’ go shave.” He starts. 

“Matt!” Shiro tries again. 

“What?” Matt’s face twists in annoyance and something flashes in Shiro’s eyes that Keith can’t quite place. 

“Do you want to come to my family’s with us?”

“But-” Matt starts. 

“Lance is going.” Shiro tells him. 

Matt pauses, setting a hand on his hip and giving Shiro a look like, ‘ _ Really? _ ’. Shiro raises his eyebrows in an expression like, ‘ _ Bear with me? There is a method to my madness. _ ’ They exchange a few more expressions in silent conversation that Keith can’t decipher before Matt is rolling his eyes and sighing, “Give me five minutes to pack.”

“Thanks Matt!” Shiro calls after him as he walks to his room. Matt flips Shiro off over his shoulder. 

 

~~~

 

The car ride is silent for the most part, but comfortably so. Keith lounges in the back seat and plays on his phone, watches the road ahead of them as Matt and Shiro bicker over the radio station. When they stop Matt asks if anyone wants anything to which Keith replies no, he doesn’t, and Lance asks for a frozen chocolate chip cookie.

 

It’s not until there’s only about an hour left of their four-hour drive, and Matt and Lance are inside a jiffy store  _ again _ , that Shiro attempts to make conversation. 

“How’s school going?” He asks. 

Keith sighs. “It’s good.” He answers and, surprisingly enough, he’s not lying. His grades are high and he doesn’t actually have too much of a hard time on keeping up with his Professors. 

“How’s your dad?” 

Keith pauses, taken a bit off-guard by the question. “He’s uh, okay. I guess.” 

Shiro hums. “So not good then?”

Keith shrugs. “He’s not any worse.”

“When are you planning to move out?” He questions. 

“I was going to wait until I was done with school.” Keith explains. 

Shiro glances back at him. “Why?” 

Keith sighs. Shiro knows that his dad doesn’t treat him the best, he hasn’t since his mom passed away, or at least he suspects, but it’s complicated, and Keith doesn’t really know how to explain it to him. 

 

“He makes you depressed Keith.” Shiro’s tone is sad. 

“I’m no-” Keith starts. 

“You are.” Shiro insists. 

“I’ve always been like this.” Keith defends. 

“Quiet?” Shiro asks but doesn’t wait for Keith to answer before he’s answering his own question. “Yes. Reserved? Yes. A bit socially inept? Definitely.” Keith makes a face but Shiro continues before he can take offense. “But sad? Afraid? Lazy? Anxious?” Shiro looks at him. “That’s not you Keith. That’s depression. That’s your dad weighing you down.” 

“He’s not weighing me down.” Keith says defensively. 

“Maybe that’s a harsh way to put it, but Keith. You need to put some space between you and him. Maybe go to therapy.”

Keith slams his hand on the back of the seat in front of him. “Goddam it Shiro! I don’t need therapy!” Keith crosses his arms over his chest and slinks down in his seat like a child. 

“Keith.” Shiro scolds. 

“Shiro.” Keith smarts back. 

 

Shiro sighs, tapping his finger on the leather steering wheel before him. “Keith… I’m worried about you. Your mental well-being.” 

Keith watches the cars pass occasionally on the highway next to the gas station they’re parked at through the window, resting his elbow on the door and propping his cheek on his palm. “He needs me.” Keith says quietly. 

Shiro glances at Keith out of the corner of his eye in surprise. 

“My dad is… Was always a good dad. And he still tries. He’s just never been the same after my mom died, and I think he’s just… missing a part of himself that he knows he’ll never get back. And that changed him as a person.” Keith doesn’t tell Shiro about the times he heard his dad crying at the kitchen table in the middle of the night when he’d come out for snacks as a teenager. He doesn’t tell him how on his mom’s birthday, or on his parent’s old wedding anniversary, his dad would disappear for days at a time, leaving Keith with a babysitter until he was old enough to take care of himself. 

 

“Wow Keith,” Shiro breathes. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say in one sentence.” 

Despite the topic, Keith feels a weak, breathy laugh push from his lungs. 

“I guess.” He agrees. 

“Okay Keith.” Shiro says and Keith looks at him questioningly. “I’ll trust you to make the right decision for yourself. But that’s the thing,” He spares a look at his cousin in the rearview mirror.“I hope you think about yourself, and not just other people or your dad. Take yourself and your own happiness into consideration too, Keith.” 

Keith nods and turns to look out the window, having no further urge to prolong to conversation now that Matt is knocking on the passenger door window and Lance is tugging on the back-door handle repeatedly until Shiro presses the unlock button. 

 

“Lance took forever in the bathroom.” Matt blames as he slides into the car. Lance bounces into his seat next to Keith, pulling his seat belt over his shoulder. 

“Yeah well  _ I _ had to wait for Matt to talk down to an old lady about serving old coffee. And  _ then _ he insisted on a fresh brew so we had to wait for that.”

Matt lifts his coffee cup and swirls it. “And now I have fresh coffee.”

Shiro shakes his head good-naturedly. 

 

~~~

 

Keith’s grandma’s house is exactly how he remembers it: bright yellow wallpaper, creaking floors, smells like food and is full of happy people. His Aunt Kathy is the first who manages to get her arms around Keith as he follows Shiro and Matt enter the big white farm-style house. 

“You’ve gotten so big!” She squeals. 

 

As much as Keith would love to be a stereotypical teenager and say that he  _ hates  _ family get-togethers- he can’t. He actually loves them. He loves his family, who, despite being large, has managed to stay close. He and Shiro and Matt used to spend a lot of time together as kids. Pidge too but she can only remember bits and snippets since she was three or four years younger than the rest of them at the time. 

 

Keith finds the smell of his Aunts perfume comforting and a reluctant smile is forced onto his face. She moves on to kiss Matt and Shiro’s cheeks and Keith’s other aunt- Carrie, comes for her round of hugs. 

“We’ve missed you all so much!” She cups Matt’s cheeks, squeezing them. 

“Us too Aunt Kathy.” Matt manages to get out from his fish face he’s currently making. 

“And who’s this handsome boy?” She tilts to look at Lance over Shiro’s shoulder. 

 

“This is Lance.” Shiro says. “A good friend of Matt and I. And Pidge. He didn’t have anything to do this weekend so he decided to tag along with Keith since his dad can’t come.” 

“With me?!” Keith asks as his short grandma reaches up to kiss his temple. “Oh-maa.” He complains. 

 

Keith’s family isn’t Korean, which Keith is (on his mom’s side), or Japanese like Shiro (Shiro was adopted as a baby), but when Keith’s mom used to call her husbands mom,  _ mom _ in Korean, which is ‘ _ Oh-maa _ ’. Keith picked it up and starting calling her that too and it kind of stuck. Now all the grandkids call her that. 

 

“Yes, with you.” Shiro tells him. Keith can’t say anything else because they’re suddenly swarmed by the last two aunts and a stampede of younger cousins tugging at their shirts and throwing their tiny bodies into their arms. 

 

Keith lifts up his four-year-old cousin Marie from where she was hanging on his leg. 

“Excuse me little miss.” He says fondly as he tickles her belly. Marie erupts into a bundle of loud, high-pitched giggles as she curls into herself to shield her torso. Shiro darts out a hand from where he’s crouched, talking to a six-year-old Max, Marie’s older brother, who is currently showing Shiro his several missing front teeth, and tickles Marie’s side. She screams bloody murder with a huge smile on her face and wriggles out of Keith’s arms. Her little feet pad bare-foot across the wood flooring out to the back porch where she leans down to pet one of Oh-maa’s dogs. 

 

Keith hears a laugh as he shakes his head, and when he sees Lance looking at him funny he realizes the laugh came from his own mouth. He rolls his lips in, a smile still tugging at his lips as he shrugs at Lance’s dumbfounded expression. 

“Kids.” Keith says as if that explained his sudden 180 degree turn in demeanor. He doesn’t wait to see Lance’s reaction. 

 

“You boys must be hungry after such a long drive!” His grandma exclaims after scolding the little ones to ‘ _ leave your older cousins alone now _ ’. 

“That depends on what you made for dinner.” Matt says cheekily and Oh-maa lets out a boisterous laugh that shakes her from the core. 

“You’ll like it, I promise.” She assures him, setting her palm affectionately on his cheek. 

 

“Are we gonna’ stand around all day or eat?” Grandpa grumps from the living room where he’s struggling to lift himself out of his recliner using his walker. 

Oh-maa rolls her eyes in fond exasperation. “The food is ready when you are dear. Everyone is here now.” 

She rests her hand on Shiro’s shoulder for a moment but before she pulls away, a shit-eating grin splits her face and she lowers her thing gnarled hand down to Shiro’s bicep and squeezes. “You’re getting so strong Shiro!” She compliments. “My lord child what have you been eating?” 

Shiro lets out an embarrassed chuckle and beside him Matt struggles not to laugh out loud at Shiro’s expression. Lance and Keith find themselves in the same boat as Shiro stutters, 

“W-well I just don’t eat a lot of carbs and I exercise every day.” 

“And you don’t have a girlfriend yet?” His Aunt Kathy cuts in.

“Maybe they’re all shying away from such a man.” His Great Aunt Nancy snickers as she passes by the kitchen island. 

 

Shiro groans and Matt is no longer able to hold in his laughter. Shiro shoots him a glare but it’s short-lived and a moment later, he’s laughing too. 

 

Keith finds himself continuously smiling as the night wears on. His aunts talk about the newest family drama and his uncles talk about college football as kids run underfoot, frozen popsicles clutched in their fists and dripping over their fingers. 

 

At one point later that night, as Shiro and Matt are dancing with the cousins in front of the fireplace, and Lance and Keith are nursing their slices of pecan pie, Lance leans forward where he’s sitting and says, 

“I didn’t know you were related to Shiro before today.” 

Keith side-eyes him. “Oh yeah?” He gives a small, subtly bitter-sounding laugh. “He hasn’t mentioned me?” 

Lance pauses before he frowns, eyebrows drawing upward. “Well. I dunno’. He probably has mentioned you but I just wasn’t paying attention. Or I don’t remember.” 

“What a great friend you are.” Keith snarks.    
“Hey!” Lance blurts defensively, sitting up straighter. “I’m a great, loyal friend okay?” 

“Mh-hm.” Keith says distractedly as he shovels another bite of pie into his mouth, gaze having returned to the dancing in front of him. 

“Seriously, I am!” Lance insists. “One time I helped Pidge with her project and I couldn’t even understand what she was talking about, but I still did a good job anyway!” 

 

Keith snorts, taken off-guard by Lance’s need to defend his friendship skills and his randomness. 

“What?” He laughs, shaking his head. 

Lance pauses again before saying, “I really am a good friend.” 

Keith looks at him. “Okay Lance.” He agrees, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of his lips. “I believe you.” 

Lance looks like he doesn’t know how to respond to that, but lucky enough for him, Marie decides that Keith should join the dance party at that moment and bounces up to him. 

 

“Keith! Keith! Come dance!” She demands, and points to Matt and Shiro. “Matt and Siwo are!” 

“‘Siwo’? Keith asks her. She bobs her head vigorously, looking determined. “I really don’t like dancing.” 

“Oh come onnnn Mullet.” Lance drawls as he sets his plate on the coffee table and stands, stretching a long arm behind his head. “Don’t be a wet blanket.” Keith frowns. “You scared I’m gonna’ be a better dancer than you?” 

“Like you can dance.” Keith huffs and rolls of his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Oh-ho-ho!” Lance chuckles. “Is that a challenge Twinkle Toes?”

Kaith narrows his eyes as he stands, a smirk curling his lips. “I believe it was.” 

 

~~~

 

Keith goes to bed early because it turns out Lance is an amazing dancer and Keith is a poor loser. He’s pouting. He’s pouting and he knows he’s pouting but he’s more worried about the fact that he and Lance are sharing a room. Usually when they come down for family get-togethers every year or so, give or take, it’s Keith and his dad in this bedroom. Now of course, with his dad not here… Lance taking his place would be the logical solution but Keith is… He’s not sure what he’s feeling. A lot of hesitation maybe. Some nervousness. But no anger, or dread, despite Lance and his rocky relationship. Why are his own feelings so confusing?! 

 

Keith falls back on the bed, splaying his arms out of either side of himself. Well, he might as well take a shower before Lance comes up to bed. With this thought in mind, Keith rolls over and reaches for his bag on the floor to grab his pajamas. 

 

**Lance P.O.V**

 

Lance waves one last time to Keith and Shiro’s aunts, and Matt and Shiro as he walks upstairs. Lance loves big families. He loves the energy and the affection that filters throughout all of the conversations and gestures. He has a big family of his own- five younger siblings and more cousins than he feels like counting right now- and he doesn’t really get tired of the hustle and bustle that comes along with big families. But everyone was leaving to either drive back to their own home or to the guest house next door if they don’t live close by. 

 

Lance asked Shiro why they were the only ones staying in his grandma’s house and not the guest house and he just shrugged and answered, 

“ _ We’ve always slept in this house. _ ” 

Old habits die hard he guesses.

 

Lance pushes open the door to the right- the one Aunt Carrie told him was his, and is greeted by Keith bent over in only boxers as he searches for something in his bag. When he hears Lance open the door behind him, he jumps violently and whips around. 

 

“You could have knocked!” Keith hisses, the apples of his cheeks turning a delightful shade of red. 

Lance feels his own cheeks heat, if only for the image of Keith bent at the waist burning in his head. 

“This is my room too!” Lance defends. “Maybe you shouldn’t be in the middle of the room naked!” 

Keith’s face screws up in an unreadable expression before he turns on his heel, grabs his clothes off the bed and goes into the bathroom. 

 

Lance sighs and glances around the room. There’s only one bed. Lance sits on the floor with his back resting against the closet doors. He lets the crown of his head bump back on the wood, mind racing. 

‘ _ What was that? _ ’ He thinks to himself. Keith’s blushing face and damp, towel-tousled hair pop into his mind at a very unhelpful time and Lance lets out a groan. ‘ _ Okay, so he’s cute. So what? _ ’ 

 

Keith opens the bathroom door then, dressed in plaid flannel pants pajama bottoms and a black t-shirt. He juts his thumb over his shoulder toward the bathroom. 

“Do you need it?” He asks. 

“Yeah but, where am I going to sleep?” Lance asks. 

Keith gestures to under the twin bed. “There’s a blow-up mattress under there and I can get you some extra pillows and blankets from the hall closet.”

“Okay but I wanna’ call the bed.” Lance says. 

Keith pauses, frowning as he sits on his bed, towel hanging around his shoulders. “I get the bed.” He says like this should be obvious. 

“Uh, but I’m the guest so I get to pick.” Lance informs him. 

“Technically I’m a guest too.” Keith reminds him. 

Lance lets out a frustrated sigh and rolls his eyes to the ceiling for a few seconds before looking Keith straight in the eye. “Okay, how bout’ this?” Lance points to the bed. “Tonight I get the bed and tomorrow night you get the bed.”   
“Why do you get it tonight?” Keith asks. 

“Oh my-” Lance runs a hand over his face. “Why do you always have to be so difficult?” Lance whines. Keith shrugs a shoulder but he does manage to look a little sheepish. 

 

“Fine.” Keith says. “You can have the bed tonight. I’m going to go get some pillows.” And with that he leaves the room. Lance shakes his head, hands on his hips for a few seconds before he goes through his suitcase to find his clothes, face care kit and clothes to sleep in. 

 

Lance stands under the spray of the warm water as he washes his face as conditioner sits in his hair. Lance has a very strict beauty regimen that he follows like the good book. He doesn’t want to get wrinkles by the time he’s thirty. 

‘ _ I bet Keith will have wrinkles by then _ .” Lance thinks, snickering to himself. Keith seems too uptight to use any kind of moisturizer. Or do anything to cater to his appearance really. 

‘ _ Not that he needs to. _ ’ Lance thinks with a sigh as he scrubs his fingers through his short hair. ‘ _ Keith is pretty talented at being naturally attractive. _ ’ Lance admits to himself. It annoys him really, how he doesn't try and he still looks as flawless as he does. Lance wished he was like that, but if he doesn't use his expensive face scrub every night he'll break out like nobody's business. ‘ _ Curse Keith and his perfect Asian skin. _ ’ Lance thinks bitterly as he shuts off the water. 

 

The blow up mattress is all set up when he exits the bathroom.

“You out a sheet on it?” Lance asks, gesturing to the mattress Keith is currently laying on, curled up on his side, facing away from the twin bed Lance is sleeping in as he scrolls through social media on his phone. 

Keith doesn't look away as he talks. “Yeah. Are you some kind of savage that sleeps without a sheet?” 

“Not on air mattresses.” Lance explains as he stretches up to the ceiling, his back popping audibly. 

 

Keith sits up, leaning his back against the wall and glances over at him then. He freezes, eyes wide. He blinks once. Twice, and Lance is staring back at this point, waiting for Keith to say something. Keith’s face looks uncomfortably tense for a moment before he tips his head back, a burst of laughter bubbling up from his stomach. Lance scowls, narrowing his eyes and setting a hand on his hip even as a smile begins to worm itself onto his face. 

“What?” Lance demands. 

Keith gasps for air, pressing his hand into his belly as he knocks his head back against the wall behind him. “You-!” Another round of giggles pushes past Keith’s lips and he attempts to smother them by biting his lips closed. 

 

Lance begins to laugh too. He can’t help it. Seeing this uptight asshole trying to keep his laughter in to keep from embarrassing himself gets him the right way. Lance’s laugh is louder than Keith’s, and longer, coming deeper from the belly. While Keith’s are short gasps of breath that squeak at the end when his lungs run out of air. Seeing Lance laughing makes Keith laugh impossibly harder for a few seconds before he finally is able to calm down enough to compose himself. 

 

“What the hell is on your face!?” Keith gets out, a smile still lingering on his face. 

“Wha- That’s what you were laughing about!?” Lance asks with another small, incredulous huff of a laugh. 

Keith nods, bangs falling to partially cover his right eye. 

“It’s just a face mask I wear before I sleep.” Lance explains. 

Keith’s nose scrunches up and he shakes his head. “You’re so weird.” He accuses. 

“At least I’m not going to all wrinkled up by the time I’m thirty.” Lanc shoots back. 

“I’m not going to be all wrinkled up.” Keith says with a roll of his eyes as he lowers himself back onto his side, knees tucking up, his left arm strewn around an extra pillow. 

 

Lance snorts. “Why are you spooning a pillow? Are you  _ that _ lonely?” 

Keith frowns as he lights his phone up. “This is just comfortable for me.”   
“I didn’t know you were such a cuddly person.” Lance teases before making a smoochy sound. 

 

Lance swears Keith’s cheeks heat up as the boy shrugs the shoulder he’s not laying on and offers no further response. Lance asks if he can turn off the light and Keith says he doesn’t care so he does. 

“Goodnight Keithy-boy.” Lance yawns as he lays on his stomach, arms tucked up under the pillow his head is resting on. 

Keith grunts in reply. 


	3. Chapter #3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not much plot... More fluff. Warning for updated tags. There's nothing graphic... There's finally a BIT of a break through with our boys I think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a day early I know. But I'm behind on my writing schedule so i have to start writing the second chapter tomorrow not today so I had to finish it today anyways so.... Decided to go ahead and update. I know like barely anyone reads this fic but I write this for my damn self xD. So for those of you that do read and enjoy this story... Enjoy? Comments and kudos are still very much appreciated and make me smile/inspire me so. Happy reading!

**Lance P.O.V**

When Lance wakes up, Keith is curled up in a ball on the air mattress to Lance’s left. There’s a string of drool trailing down the side of his mouth that Lance makes a face at, lip curling in disgust. His expression of disgust fades however when Lance pads by on his way to the bathroom, and he notices how bad Keith’s bed-head is. It’s  _ bad _ . Like sticking all over the place, not just slightly fluffy and cute bad. Lance smoothes a hand over it to feel how tangled the strands are. It’s surprisingly soft. And Lance gets the strange thought that Keith’s hair is the perfect texture to play with. 

 

This for some reason, leads to the line of thought that causes Lance to picture his fingers buried in that head of thick, dark tangled hair. 

‘ _ Why would it be tangled, I wonder? _ ’ 

Lance gasps aloud at his own thoughts. 

‘ _ My virgin ears! _ ’ He thinks at himself, even though he’s not really a virgin and he’s the one that had those thoughts in the first place. He quickly pads into the bathroom and shuts the door behind himself. He leans on it once it’s shut, running the previous image he’d imagined in his head. 

 

So he may be attracted to Keith. So what? Keith is a hottie. Lance is just a little surprised because, after Lance realized he was bisexual, he has been attracted to a few guys, but not really enough that he’s had thoughts pop into his head without his permission. He sees himself as like 70% straight and 30% bi. 

 

He’s passed by guys with Hunk and Pidge and pointed them out. Told his friends what a nice backside the stranger had or whatever. But girls is what he’s familiar with. What he’s experienced in. He lost his virginity to a girl. He had his first kiss with a girl. He went on his first date with a girl. With a guy he’d have to start all over again with all those firsts, and Lance isn’t sure he has the confidence to make the moves on a guy. 

 

After Lance washes his face, brushes his teeth and changes into day clothes he heads downstairs. He's peeking around the banister as he descends the wooden steps. He's a little nervous because he's wearing socks and they manage to slip a little on every step down he takes. Lance worries for a minute that he's the only up- it's only eight thirty after all. But once he reached the landing, Matt and Shiro’s distinct voices float from the kitchen invitingly. 

 

Lance pops his head around the corner and pauses. Matt is grabbing something out of the fridge, fuzzy socks on his feet and a robe hanging on his shoulders over plain matching pajamas underneath. His hair is a mess and he's smiling as he talks to Shiro, who leans on the counter, bare foot and in a pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt as he nurses a cup of coffee. 

 

“Yeah but I dunno’ how to cook.” Shiro is saying, smiling into his cup as he watches Matt over the rim. 

“Aw that's not true Shiro.” Matt teases as he puts a carton of eggs on the counter and closed the fridge. “You can make a sandwich.” 

“Hardy-har-har.” Shiro deadpans, pushing away from the counter opposite Matt, setting a hand on his side as he leans over to set his cup in the sink. Lance noticed how his hand lingers on his best friend a second too long before he pulls away.

 

“Why are you eavesdropping like a creep?” Keith demands as he walks up behind Lance, making Lance jump as he shoves his shoulder into his as he passes by. 

Lance gapes and makes an indignant noise, before reluctantly following Keith into the kitchen. 

“Who knocked you out of bed this morning?” Lance snarks as he grabs a muffin out of the plastic container on the counter and angrily takes a bite out of it. 

 

Shiro rolls his eyes and exchanges a look with Matt, who looks pained. 

“I’m making eggs if you guys want any.” Matt tells them. 

“I’d like some.” Keith tells Matt politely, shooting Lance a heated look. 

 

Lance rolls his eyes. He actually thought he and Keith were on steady ground now. That they were chill, maybe on the steady path to become friends. But apparently not. This guy was being an asshole. Again. 

 

“Hey, Keith.” Shiro sets a hand on Keith’s shoulder before he lowers his voice in an attempt to keep his words private. “What’s your problem with Lance today?” 

Keith huffs. “Nothing is wrong!” He exclaims as he bangs the cabinet he had opened to look for a coffee cup shut. “I’m going to get dressed for the day.” He grumbles as he storms out of the kitchen and back up the stairs. 

 

Both Shiro and Matt direct their attention toward Lance. Matt glancing over his shoulder as he cooks multiple eggs on the electric stove while Shiro sets his hands on his hips, eyebrows drawn together in concern. 

“Did anything happen between you two last night?” He asks. 

"No, nothing! I thought we were doing well last night actually." Lance says with a  frown, crossing his arms over his chest as he finishes the last bite of his muffin.

Shiro hums. "He tends to get moody sometimes."

"'Sometimes'!?" Lance scoffs incredulously. "He's always brooding about something."

Matt speaks up then, piling scrambled eggs onto a plate sitting on the marble counter next to the stove. "Lance..." He starts. "Keith has gone through some rough times."

"Like what?" Lance asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

Matt glances to Shiro before he purses his lips.

"It's not really our place to say." Shiro admits.

"But maybe just-" Matt winces. "Be patient with him? I promise he'll open up... eventually."

Lance shrugs, recalling the ease between him and Keith last night. "I'll try but I can't make any promises."

Shiro smiles. "That's all we ask."

 

Shiro and Keith's grandparents come downstairs a few minutes later, delighted that Matt had made breakfast.

"I've made breakfast every morning for the last year for this man." Mrs. Kogane says good-naturally as she sets a hand on her husband's shoulder. "The only break I have is when my grandsons come over and give me a break."

"It's always nice to help out." Matt says. "Especially since I'm not really your grandson."

"Pish posh." Mr. Kogane exclaims. "Sometimes I forget that you're not another adopted grandchild of mine!"

They all laugh and Lance smiles along, mostly at Matt's bashful grin and modest dip of his head. What a cutie. Lance really just has a bunch of cute friends. 

 

More family members begin to show up after that, filing in a few at a time until it's as busy as it was the night before. Keith snuck downstairs sometime over the last thirty minutes or so and is now making conversations with one of his teenage cousins while bouncing a toddler on his hip.

 

Lance is honest to god still shook by how well Keith interacts with kids. He seemingly turns into a different person around anyone younger than him. He doesn't really act fatherly like Shiro or gushy-motherly like Matt but he acts like... A chill cousin, Lance guesses. He doesn't really know how to explain it. He doesn't reprimand any of his family member like Shiro but he isn't attacking every baby that passes by with overflowing affection either. He interacts with other people as they approach him and takes it in stride, coming off as easy-going and kind.

 

Why doesn't he act like that around Lance? Lance frowns. Maybe he has something against him. Maybe Lance did something wrong. Lance gasps then, realization dawning on him. Was he too forward the first time they met? Is Keith straight and weirded out by Lance's attraction to him? That has to be it. Lance can't think of another reason.

 

Mrs. Kogane announces that she's going to make lunch and Lance decides to let it go for now to help chop lettuce instead. With the help of one of Keith and Shiro's uncles, Matt and two of their aunts, they get lunch made relatively quickly.

 

Lance helps hand out sandwiches to kids and write initials on red solo cups filled with sprite.

"Keith, what sandwich do you want?" Lance asks.

Keith winces. "Uh, none." He answers simply. Lance blinks. He doesn't recall Keith eating that morning now that he thinks about it.

 

When Matt offers him a cup however, Keith accepts it graciously.

' _ Okay, what the fuck _ .' Lance thinks as his eyes narrow. Does Keith have a stick shoved so far up his ass that he won't even accept food from someone who's bi?

 

Lance leans across the table only slightly in order to get Keith's attention. Keith looks up, dark eyes wide. Lance offers him food again but Keith declines a second time, a bit of a bite to his voice as he does so, obviously annoyed that Lance has the audacity and his bisexual ass dares to ask him TWICE.

 

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Lance grits out, pasting a fake pleasant smile onto his face.

Keith pauses before giving an aloof nod and standing form his chair.

 

Lance follows Keith into the downstairs bathroom and shuts the door behind them so they have a bit of privacy.

"What." Keith deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest.

"'What', is why are you such a dick to me?" Lance gets right to the point.

"What kind of question is that?" Keith asks, head slouching between his shoulders.

"A valid one!" Lance exclaims, throwing his hands into the air. "If you have a problem with me being bi, why did you let Shiro bring me along?"

"Wha-" Keith tries.

"But instead I was dragged along and forced to share a room with you and you've treated me shitty the whole time! I've tried to make up with you!" Lance's voice is rising now.

"Lance-" Keith starts.

"And you've treated me like shit since this morning for no-!"

"Lance!" Keith yells, eyes squeezing shut and cheeks turning pink.

 

Lance pauses and Keith continues.

"Why the hell do you think I'm homophobic?" Keith asks.

"You wouldn't even accept food from me!" Lance squawks.

Keith chews the inside of his cheek for a few moments and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. "That doesn't have anything to do with you."

"You took the soda from Matt!" Lance points out.

"What the-" Keith waves his arms around, now fully frustrated. Lance gets the feeling that Keith has a hard time putting his feelings into words. "I have eat-!" The words die on Keith's tongue and he just shakes his head.

 

"You have what?" Lance presses.

Keith shakes his head again. "It's none of your business." He grumbles and tries to push past Lance. Lance shoots out an arm to block the door, pressing his shoulder in front of Keith's body.

"I'm making it my business." He says, looking down at Keith. Their noses are nearly touching.

Keith's cheeks practically emanate heat and Lance feels an odd sort of pride at the fact that he caused such a reaction.

 

"I don't eat lunch." Keith finally says.

"Oh, so you don't eat breakfast either I guess." Lance says, not believing Keith's bullshit response until Keith eyes flash with something like hurt and it clicks into place.

"You have an eating disorder." Lance says quietly. Keith keeps his chin high, refusing to break eye contact with Lance even as shame passes over his features.

 

Keith shoulders past him after a few seconds of the two of them breathing each other's air, and this time Lance lets him go.

 

**KEITH'S POV**

 

Keith had one of the worst dreams ever last night. He woke up with painful morning wood and flashes of warm skin sliding erotically against his own burned into the back of his eyelids.

' _ Lance? Of all people _ ?' Keith thought to himself even as he palmed his erection, biting his lip and glancing over at the empty bed Lance slept in the night before, paranoid that he'll look over and find Lance staring at him in shock. Keith relieved his problem in the bathroom, throwing the blankets that were tangled up around his ankles off of him as he jumps from the air mattress.

 

So that's why when he saw Lance peeking around the corner of the kitchen entryway, he snapped. And he kept snapping until Lance finally snapped back, getting into Keith's personal space and making his heart slam in his chest. In his own nervousness, Keith told Lance he has an eating disorder and  _ god _ . He might as well have plastered the words, ' **I’m emo and have issues** ' on his forehead. Lance's face was a mixture of sympathy and guilt, two emotions that Keith doesn't like and doesn't know how to deal with, so he left Lance there.

 

Now Keith is back in the bedroom him and Lance share, laying on his air mattress with his face stuffed into his pillows. He sighs, rolling over, both of his arms wrapped around a pillow. He throws his leg over it and buries his face into the corner of the material. After a few minutes of wallowing in self pity, Keith pulls out his phone and props it on the pillow he's spooning.

 

He usually just dicks around on social media even though he only know like one out of ten people that he follows on there. The first picture he scrolls through is a girl's selfie, but the second thing makes him pause. The caption is, ' **Pray for his family** ' and the picture is of a local article.

 

The article reads, ' **TODAY A TEENAGE BOY OF SIXTEEN YEARS OLD, JAMES HULLICAN, WAS CONFIRMED DEAD BEFORE THE CAR CRASHED. WE DO NOT KNOW WHAT KIND OF MEDICAL CONDITION CAUSED HIS HEART TO STOP SO SUDDENLY, BUT WE WILL UPDATE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE ON THE SUBJECT** .'

 

Keith pauses. He's reminded of the woman at the grocery store, that also died suddenly around the same area only about a week before him. He feels sympathy wash over him as he thinks about the boy's parents. But alas, tragedies happen. And we all have to figure out a way to push through them and live on.

 

Keith twists his lips to the side and locks his phone, his gaze meeting his reflection in the dark glass. He sighs, curling tighter into the pillow and setting his phone to the side. When he was a kid, Keith had a really long pillow he always snuggled with. The pillow case on it had the face of a bear and he named it Gom. His mom would always make Gom talk in a funny, animated voice when she tucked him in at night. She would stand him up and wiggle his pillow body around. Gom would say stuff like, 

‘I’ll keep you safe in the night, Keith.’ and, 

‘I love you soooo much Keithy!’ and, 

‘Your mommy and daddy are in the room next door if you have a bad dream!’ 

 

And then Gom would fall over on top of Keith, and his mom's hands would come around the sides of Gom and tickle Keith’s ribs until his belly hurt from laughing. Then his mom would place three kisses on Keith’s face, one on each cheek and one on his forehead. But little Keith would have none of that, and he would grab his mom's cheeks and pull her face foward to smack a kiss onto her lips. Then Keith’s mom would say every night, 

“ _ Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite, sweet dreams, see you in the morning, say your prayers, I love you. _ ” She would always say it fast, too fast for Keith to repeat back properly. So Keith would just giggle and yell back, 

“ _ Ditto! _ ” 

 

Keith snuggles with his plain white pillow he has now, burying his face into it and trying to keep the tears that are burning his eyes from falling. He hears the door open then, and Keith keeps himself completely still, feigning being asleep. 

 

“Hey, Keith.” Lance’s voice says from the doorway. Keith hears him shut the door behind him. Keith doesn’t move. He doesn’t know if Lance can tell that he’s awake or not but honestly, he just doesn’t have the energy to deal with him right now. He feels emotionally drained at the moment. He hears Lance take a step forward, the wood creaking underfoot as he does so. Something hesitantly brushes the side of Keith’s head, by his temple, and Keith realizes that Lance is brushing Keith’s hair with his fingers. Lightly, so not to disturb Keith in his sleep. Keith forces his breathing to remain deep and even. 

 

After a few seconds, the touch gets more discernible, Lance getting more comfortable, and his fingers tangle more in his hair. Keith suppresses a shudder that tries to wrack through him as Lance buries his fingers in his hair. As suddenly as it came, the touch is gone, his fingers retracting from Keith’s head. Keith hears the door to the bathroom open and shut and Keith sits up, staring at the closed door and the light that’s filtering from under it. 

 

**LANCE’S POV**

 

Lance wants to talk to Keith, to tell him he’s sorry- again- for assuming things about him when Lance doesn’t know anything about him. No wonder Matt and Shiro told him to be patient. Now he went and assumed shit and made himself look like an asshole. He spares a glance around the living room one more time, just to make sure keith wasn’t down here, completely fine and not brooding up in the bedroom they share. But he is not down here, so Lance lets out a long-suffering sigh and hops upstairs. 

 

He expects to see Keith sitting on the twin bed, maybe the sheets changed, arms crossed over his chest as he glares silently, mind obviously moving a mile a minute. What he’s sees instead is Keith curled up on his side in a tight ball, face buried into the pillow he’s spooning, hair a mess around him. Lance swallows thickly, something like affection swishing around without permission in his stomach. 

“Hey, Keith.” Lance tries. 

 

Keith doesn’t move. Lance takes a hesitant step forward, careful not to wake him. Slowly, Lance extends a hand, thoughts of burying his fingers in Keith’s hair returning as he brushes his fingertips over the dark locks. When Keith doesn’t stir, Lance pushes more, pressing his fingers into his hair. Keith’s scalp is warm and his hair is thick and soft and clean. The strands wrap around Lance’s fingers as if holding him there, keeping him from leaving. 

 

After a few more seconds, Lance slides his fingers from Keith’s hair, careful not to tug on any of the loose knots. He stares at Keith for a few more seconds. He looks so small like this, curled up on his little air mattress. His skin is pale and his wrists are thin, legs long… 

 

Lance rattles his head, shaking himself from his stupor. He turns into the bathroom and shuts the door tightly behind him. ‘ _ Why does somebody so pretty have to be so complicated? _ ’ Lance runs a hand over his face. This guy has got him all up in arms, and he barely knows him. It’s ridiculous. Well at least they’ll be heading home tomorrow morning and Lance can put all of this behind him. He can try to avoid, and by default, forget, about the cute asian boy with the ugly mullet and mysterious baggage. 

 

Lance hears the telltale creaking of the flooring as Keith gets out of bed. Lance swallows. 

‘ _ Time to apologize for being a dick...again. Man up, you can do this. _ ’ Lance swallows quickly and takes a second to get up his nerve before he pushes the bathroom door open. 

 

Keith is sitting on the edge of the air mattress, hair disheveled and eyes sleepy. His cheeks are pink and Lance guesses it's from laying face-first on his pillow. 

“Lance?” He asks, his voice small and slightly rough. 

 

Lance’s heart stutters in his chest and his breath hitches. 

“H-hey, Keith.” He manages to choke out. 

Keith blinks at him owlishly as he waits for Lance to continue. 

“I just wanted to- to apologize. For earlier. Assuming stuff when I don't really… know. Anything.” 

Keith shrugs a shoulder and looks down at the bedding, apparently finding the patterns in the hardwood floor very interesting. 

“Everyone assumed things Lance.” He brushes off. “Don't worry about it.” 

 

Lance nods but guilt still pools in his belly. “Can-” 

Keith glances up at his through his dark eyelashes from where he's sitting. 

Lance swallows and forces himself to continue. “Can I ask why?” 

“‘Why’ what?” Keith cocks his head to the side, thick eyebrows drawing together. 

“W-why you…” Lance trails off, waiting for his question to click in Keith's head.

 

It does a few moments later and Keith's eyes widen slightly before they narrow and he looks back down to the floor. 

“I guess…” Keith pauses for so long that Lance thinks he wants Lance to ask the full question before he finally continues. 

“I want to be strong?” Keith looks up finally. “I train all the time and I stick to a strict diet that may… Be under the calorie count someone of my BMI is recommended to intake in a day but…” Keith wets his lips. “I dunno’.” He finishes. 

 

Lance blinks, stares at Keith for a handful of seconds before he finally moves forward, sighing as he runs a hand through his hair and takes a seat next to Keith. Lance goes to wrap an arm around Keith's shoulder but pauses, feeling awkward. He settles for putting a hand on Keith's shoulder instead. Keith jumps slightly but doesn’t pull away, his eyes still trained on the floor.

“Everyone has their insecurities man.” Lance assures him. “Hell, I don't feel worthy of a lot of the attention I get in a day and I feel like my friends are too good for me but- For what it's worth?” Keith looks up at Lance when he pauses and Lance pushes through, his next words coming out in a rush of breath. “I think you're really hot the way you are.”

 

A few long seconds tick by before Keith bursts out laughing. His cheeks redden and his lips stretch wide, revealing perfectly straight teeth and a dimple in his left cheek- how did Lance not notice that before? His eyes squeeze shut and Lance feels more of that cursed affection rise up in his throat and come out in the form of his own laugh. Lance’s laugh is gobsmacked, awestruck by how fucked over he his by this stupid mullet-wearing dream boat. 

 

When Keith's laughter dies down, Lance relishes the bright flush he brought to Keith's face with the ease of a sincere compliment. 

 

“Well thank you.” Keith says quietly, and may Lord have mercy on Lance's gay soul, a small smile still trying to work it's way into his face but Keith keeps it back with a coy lip bite that has Lance praying to Mary. 

“O-Oh, yeah. It's nothing don't- don't mention it. I mean I was telling the truth you are- I mean I wasn't just trying to make you feel better I- you really are- but you're also-” Lance snaps his mouth closed when he realizes how bad he's rambling. “Sh-shouldn't you visit more with your family while you're here?”  He says instead. 

 

Keith sighs and runs a hand through his still-disheveled hair. “I guess.” He admits. “Just the crowd gets to be a bit much sometimes, you know?” 

“Yeah.” Lance agrees. He really doesn't know, if he's being honest but he can get where Keith is coming from. He knows crowds and small places overwhelm some people. Lance just isn't one of those people. 

 

Lance stands and stretches, pressing his palms into his lower back to crack it before turning to Keith and holding a hand out to help him to his feet. 

“Shiro is bound to come looking for you soon if you don't go out there of your own free will.” Lance points out.

Keith takes Lance's offered hand. Keith's fingers are cold and oh-so-pale. Especially against Lance's own tan fingers. 

 

“Your hand is so small.” Lance finds himself saying without his own permission. 

Keith yanks his hand away and cups it to his chest, mumbling something about ‘Jim’? “What?” Lance asks, leaning in closer into Keith's personal space, cupping a hand around his ear. “I can't hear you.” 

“Pidge says I have ‘Jimin hands’.” Keith repeats, louder this time and seemingly flustered. 

“What's a Jimin?” Lance asks. 

Keith just shakes his head. “Just come on.”

 

~~~

 

Lance watches Keith across the room as he helps his little cousins put together a puzzle in the middle of the living room floor. He keeps having to sweep his hair behind his ears because it keeps falling into his face. His expression is soft and his smiles come easy as he interacts with the toddlers around him. 

 

“Did you fix it?” Matt’s voice nearly makes Lance jump out of his skin as he comes up behind him, sipping on a root beer through a straw as he stands next to Lance by the kitchen island. 

“Fix what?” Lance asks, raising his eyebrows questioningly. 

Matt gestures toward Keith in the living room with his soda can. “Whatever was going on between you and Keith.” 

Lance pauses, glancing back to Keith in the living room. “I guess.” He finally settles for. “We didn't really fight in the first place. He was upset and- yeah I dunno’. I guess.” 

Matt hums and leans in slightly. “Did you guys do anything?” He whispers. 

“What?!” Lance whisper-squeaks. 

Matt snickers. "I'll take that as a no." He rocks back on the balls of his feet, looking over to where Lance was looking again. "He really is a good guy, Lance." He tries to convince.

"He may be." Lance admits on a breath, running a hand through his hair. “But I dunno’ what you’re getting at here.” 

Matt gives him a disbelieving look. “Uh-huh.” He says under his breath. “Anyways, while you stare at Keef with moon-eyes I’m going to go help make mashed potatoes.” 

“Wha-?” Lance starts, flustered. “‘Moon-eyes’?!” But Matt is already sashaying away, winking at Lance over his shoulder as he walks back to the kitchen. That asshole. 

 

Lance lets out a sigh and leans back against the wall. Keith is still playing with his little cousins, but also talking to an older cousin- Trevor or something- who’s sitting on the leather recliner as he and Keith catch up. Honestly what did moon-eyes even mean? Lance could only draw up the picture of himself with two crater-filled glowing orbs as eyes. What a weird saying. 

 

Marie suddenly throws herself at Keith and Keith catches her, exclaiming, “Whoa!” as he does. He says something about Marie needing to be more careful but she’s giggling and not listening and it makes Keith laugh and shake his head good-naturedly. Something twists in Lance’s gut and he can’t tell if it’s unpleasant or not. Maybe he’s just hungry. Matt did say something about making potatoes. 

 

Lance cranes his neck around to see inside the kitchen. He sees a glimpse of Matt hovering over a bowl and sees Shiro perched on a stool by the kitchen island, talking to Aunt Carrie who’s loading the dishwasher. 

 

“Do you know when lunch’ll be ready?” Keith asks, standing on his tiptoes by Lance and lifting his chin to try and see inside the bustling kitchen. 

Lance blinks, eyes running over the pale, unmarked skin of Keith’s neck. “Uh-” He says intelligently and Keith looks at him, falling back to stand flat-footed. Keith cocks his head cutely, watching Lance expectantly. “Matt said they were making food now.” 

“Well yeah I figured.” Keith says with a small shrug. He studies Lance for a moment. “Are you feeling okay?” He asks finally, expression concerned. His eyebrows are drawn together and make a wrinkle in between them when he’s worried and Lance has the urge to smooth the line away with the pad of his thumb. Instead he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. 

“Yeah I’m fine. Why do you ask?” 

Keith shrugs, waving it off. “Can you tell us when lunch is ready?” He asks instead. “I’m going to take the kids to play outside.”

“Oh. Yeah. No problem.” Lance clears his throat. 

“Thank you.” Keith says flippantly as he walks away, grabbing two kids’ hands along the way and ushering the other kids out by calling their names. 

 

~~~

 

Lance collapses back onto the twin bed, arms thrown out to the side. He misses gaming. Hunk, Pidge and Lance usually play together every few days if not every day. Canonazo is currently calling his name, but now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen a  _ Gwan _ in this house since he’s been here. Lance would have to ask Keith once he’s out of the bathroom.

 

Lance had offered up the twin bed like they agreed on, about to change the sheets so Keith could sleep on it but Keith had waved him off, told him he could sleep there again tonight because it was too much of a hassle to change beds anyways. Lance can’t say he was complaining. The twin bed he slept on the night before is super comfortable. 

 

So Lance scrolls through social media on his phone, texts Hunk and Pidge that he’s survived the weekend with Shiro, Matt and Keith thus far. He plays music over the small speakers built into his phone. He usually listens to old, catchy spanish music that his mom always listned to when Lance was a kid and tonight is no different. He finds himself singing along quietly to the familiar lyrics as he likes people’s photos. 

 

Lance hears the shower shut off and the bathroom door opens a few minutes later, steam rolling out and into the bedroom. Keith is wearing loose pajama bottoms and no shirt, his hair damp and dripping water onto his bare shoulders. Lance’s breath catches in his throat as his eyes roam over Keith’s figure against his will. 

 

Keith shoulders are wider than most but not extremly so and his stomach is flat. His waist is very narrow and his hip bones jut out where they disapear into the waistband of his pants. He’s almost completly hairless except for a bit of dark, short hair under his arms and a thin happy trail that leads from his belly button down. He’s toned enough not to have an ounce of fat on his body but skinny enough to look soft and small. Lance swallows thickly. 

 

“I don’y have any clean shirts.” Keith explains and Lance tears his eyes away. 

‘ _ He’s probably straight he’s probably straight he’s probably straight. _ ’ Lance repeats this to himself like a mantra. 

“Uhm, okay.” Lance says. He tries to sound disinterested, as if Keith being shirtless doesn’t phase him and he doesn’t care one bit either way. He’s not too sure if he pulls it off. “Do your grandparents have a  _ Gwan _ ?” Lance asks to change the subject. 

 

Keith scoffs as he sits down cross-legged on the blow up mattress. “No.” He says. “They’re too old. Papa doesn’t even know how to work a phone. He still has an Android.” 

Lance laughs. Android isn’t even a brand anymore. They were bought out by Apple a long time ago. “Jeez.”

“Why were you asking?” Keith asks curiously, blinking up at Lance with dark eyes. 

Lance hums on a sigh. “Nothing important.” He assures him. “Just wanting to play Canonazo.” 

Keith’s eyes seem to flash. “You play Canonazo?” He asks, voice hesitant. 

“...Yeah?” Lance answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Do you?”

Keith pauses, eyes looking toward the ceiling for a moment as he readjusts his ankle underneath him. “Mh-hm.” Keith hums his confirmation and gives a small nod. 

 

A silence stretches on for a long minute. Neither one of them wanting to give the other their online information. Finally Lance sniffs and gets to his feet. Keith looks up at him, his phone in his lap. 

“Gotta’ take a shower.” Lance mumbles as explanation, pointing towards the bathroom. 

Keith shrugs a thin, yet string looking shoulder and looks back down at his phone, his wet bangs falling into his eyes. 

 

Lance shuts the bathroom door tighly behind him. The room is still warm and muggy from Keith running a hot shower, the mirror fogged over. Lance hopes there’s enough hot water for him to take a long shower. He really needs to clear his head, and releive the burning in his loins he gets when he hasn’t touched himself for a few days. 

 

~~~

 

When Lance wakes up the next morning, Keith isn’t in the bedroom. The air mattress he slept on is deflated, folded up and returned to it’s place under the bed. Lance sits up, limbs stiff. He rubs the sleep from his eyes with his fingertips as he yawns. 

“Keith?” He asks. When he gets no response, he stands up and looks in the bathroom but he’s not in there either. 

 

Lance trots downstairs, still dressed in the clothes he slept in. 

“Shiro?” He says when he sees the guy. 

Shiro looks up from the living room. He has a bag in each hand. “Hey Lance.” He greets. “We’re gonna be leaving pretty soon so you wanna’ get your stuff together?” 

“Yeah, I’ll just be a few.” Lance agrees with a nod. 

 

Lance crosses through the bedroom he shares with Keith and relieves himself in the bathroom before getting changed into a t-shirt and jeans, running a comb through his hair and brushing his teeth. When he steps out, he jumps when he sees Keith sitting on the floor, shoving something into his bag. 

 

Keith glances up when he hears Lance open the bathroom door. 

“Uh, good morning.” Lance says awkwardly with a small finger wave. 

Keith nods and looks down at his bag for a few long moments. “G-good morning.” He responds. His voice is breathy and a tad shaky, and immediately after he gets the words out he takes a deep, shuddering breath as if he’s trying to control himself. 

“...Are you alright?” Lance asks after a moment of hesitation. 

Keith nods but doesn’t look at Lance as he does it. Just clenches his hands together on top of his bag and takes another shaky breath. Lance waits a few more seconds before crouching in front of Keith. 

 

Keith covers his face with his hands. 

“Keith?” Lance sets a hand on Keith’s shoulder. 

“I-” Keith starts. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, his breathing getting more ragged. “I’m having a panic attack.” He breathes. 

Lance puts his hands on Keith’s shoulders and draws him in to hug him against his chest. “Hey, it’s okay.” Lance murmurs into Keith’s thick head of hair. Keith feels so small curled up against him. Lance can easily feel his ribs through their shirts and Keith’s arms are curled up to his chest. His eyes are squeezed shut and his cheeks are flushed, hands fisted in the front of Lance’s shirt. “Breath with me, okay?” Lance instructs gently. He waits for Keith to nod before he continues. “Breathe it as deep as you can.” Lance sucks in a slow, easy breath. He feels Keith’s chest expand as he follows Lance’s lead. “Then hold it for three seconds.” Lance says. “One. Two. Three. Then let it out slow.” Lance lets the rest of his breath out slowly and Keith does the same. 

 

Lance continues to repeat this process, guiding Keith through the breathing exercise. When Lance was fourteen, his nine-year-old sister Camila had a ballet recital. Lance was backstage with her, for support. About fifteen minutes before she was supposed to go on stage, she had a panic attack. Lance’s first reaction had been to run and get help from  Mamá or Papa but before he could leave, Camila grabbed his wrist and shook her head, sparkles falling from the tight bun sitting atop her head. 

“ _ Stay. _ ” She had croaked. And so Lance did. He hugged her to him, cradling her in his lap and told her to take slow deep breathes until she calmed down. She ended up doing a fantastic job during the performance and nailing her solo part in it. But she continued to have panic attacks every once in a while until she finally grew out of them when she was thirteen. 

 

So Lance’s first reaction was to comfort and calm Keith down. His fingers rake through Keith’s soft hair in steady strokes and he’s gently humming a lullaby his  Mamá used to sing to him when he was a kid, still breathing slowly to urge Keith to do the same. After a few minutes, Lance chances a peek down at Keith, who’s breathing seems to have returned to normal for the most part. Keith face is still flushed and a light sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead. His eyes are still shut but they’re not as tense as before, now they’re relaxed, as if he was sleeping. His face is so close to Lance’s that he can feel his now-steady breathing puffing out against his face. His eyelashes are dark. They’re not as thick as Lance’s own but they’re pure black and they contrast nicely with Keith’s pale skin. 

 

“Keith?” Lance breathes. 

Keith’s eyes snap open and his face turns a delightful shade of red. He scrambles away and out of Lance’s arms and Lance feels mournful of that fact.  Keith stares at him with wide, embarrassed eyes from where he now sits across from Lance on the floor, knees up to his chest. 

“Why did you have a panic attack?” Lance asks, voice still gentle, eyes still soft. 

“I…” keith tries, gaze sliding to the floor awkwardly. “My dad... “ 

Lance waits for Keith to continue. 

 

Keith clears his throat and straightens, forcing his gaze to meet Lance’s. 

“The only reason I’m telling you this is because I’m… Thankful for what-” Keith’s voice trails off into a mumble. “Thankful for you helping me…” It rises back to it’s normal volume again. “Okay?”

Lance nods. “Okay.” He agrees. 

“Okay.” Keith says with a nod of finality, obviously satisfied. “Well, I still live with my dad.” Keith glances at Lance then, as if expecting Lance to make fun of Keith over the fact that he still lives with a parent. Lance wasn’t. Even if Keith weren’t about to tell Lance something that Lance has been itching to know, he probably wouldn’t make fun of him for it. He’s known plenty of college kids that have lived with their parents until they graduated. The ones who did had a lot less to stress over and overall seemed like they got more sleep. Lance envies those kids. Lance could never have stayed home with his parents. His Mamá would never let him do anything or go out and he’d be forced to babysit all the time. But somehow, Lance knew that Keith wasn’t one of those kids that lived stress free. 

 

Keith continues, “I live with him because my mom passed away and he’s been lonely without her.” 

Oh.  _ Oh. _ Lance couldn’t imagine losing a parent. He knows he’ll have to go through it one day, but he hopes to be very old and much more mature and able to accept things by then. It would be soul-crushing now. Lance honestly doesn’t know how Keith is able to function day to day. 

“He’s different now than he was when my mom was alive.” Keith says, wringing his hands together in his lap where he now sits cross-legged on the floor. 

‘ _ Keith has such skinny ankles and small feet. _ ’ Lance finds himself randomly observing. The way Keith nervously wriggles his toes as he speaks is cute and Lance’s heart does that skippy thing again in his chest. 

“I think he’s depressed maybe. When I’ve told him to talk to a doctor he just pushes me away. He says he doesn’t need it and stuff.” Keith sighs and readjusts his ankles underneath himself. “And anyways,” Keith changes the course of the conversation, obviously deciding that Lance has been filled in on the background story enough to get the gist. 

 

Lance gets the feeling that there’s a lot more to the story but he doesn’t push as Keith continues. 

“I gave him a call this morning to see how he’s doing and-” Keith sucks in a breath. Lance reaches out to rub a hand over Keith’s shoulder. “He didn’t pay rent and-” Another hiccuping breath. “We’re getting evicted.” The last sentence is whispered, and Keith covers his face with his hands again. 

“Hey, hey.” Lance tries, wrapping his fingers around Keith’s wrists and pulling his hands from his face. Keith’s eyebrows are furrowed, and his eyes are rimmed with red and look glassy, as if he’s been crying, though no tears have been shed. “You guys have someone to stay with for a little while until you can get back on your feet, right?” 

But Keith is already shaking his head. 

“You can stay here! With your grandparents!” Lance gestures to the room they’re sitting in but Keith is still solemnly shaking his head, eyes now closed. 

 

“When we got evicted a few years ago, my dad started drinking a  _ lot _ . We stayed wherever. We were homeless. For a little while, and then we stayed in a drug house for a few months. My dad was out of it on… I don’t even know, pretty much the entire time. I just looked after the kids there that were younger than me and got from drives. And that’s how Shiro found me. He was volunteering for a homeless shelter and was handing out food. He-” Keith sighs. “He helped me. But now my dad got us evicted again and-” Keith’s voice has started rising in volume and gaining momentum, tone panicky. 

 

Lance sets his hands on Keith’s shoulders in an attempt to get his attention. 

“-he won’t accept help from other people and he hasn’t been home to see my grandparents for months and now he isn’t answering my calls he- he told me to get my stuff and leave-” 

“Hey, hey, hey.” Lance feels like a broken record. He moves his hands to cup the sides of Keith’s neck, thumbs resting against his jaw. 

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” 

Keith starts to shake his head again but Lance cuts him off with a, 

“Ah. Ah. Ah.” Lance presses his thumbs into Keith’s skin, grounding him. “Even if it takes a while to feel right again, we’ll figure it out.” Lance scoots closer to Keith and cranes his neck so that he’s eye-level with Keith, who’s stares at Lance with wide, haunted eyes that break Lance’s heart. “But you can’t. Do it it by yourself. “ Lance tells him sternly. “Okay? You need to let people help you.” 

 

Keith worries his bottom lip but nods slowly. Lance raises his eyebrows higher up his forehead, silently prompting and Keith nods more vigorously, his hair bouncing around his face and his bangs falling over one eye. 

“Okay.” He whispers. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, should I ship Shatt in this fic? Or Shallura? Or maybe a poly? I'm still undecided


	4. Chapter #4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So honestly I think this chapter is pretty uneventful but like it has to be said in order to lead up to events...? Anyways here's more sad Keith and dad Shiro and clueless confused Lance. Oh also Allura and Coran are finally introduced in this chapter goddam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too happy with this chapter but anyways. Thirty minutes before the deadline and about three pages shorter than my past chapters, here's a ten page chapter. Tell me if you think anything is off or wrong because I was honestly trying not to fall asleep while writing the last 500 words or so rip. Anyways enjoy~

**Keith’s P.O.V**

 

The car ride is silent on the way back. Lance is fidgety beside him, which isn’t really out of the ordinary but his expression is tense and he talks less than he did on the ride to their grandparent’s house. His eyebrows are drawn together and his lips are pursed. Whenever he catches Keith looking at him he looks pointedly at Shiro in the driver's’ seat as a not-so-subtle way to try to get Keith to tell Shiro the situation his dad is in. Every time Keith sees the beginning of that expression, he darts his gaze to look out the window, letting his fringe hang in between him and Lance and not-so-subtly blocking him out. 

 

Shiro drops Matt, Lance and Keith off at his apartment around twelve, in a rush because the car was due back at the shop he rented it from at noon. He apologizes for not being able to drive Lance and Keith home. Of course they wave him off, tell him he’s fine and they’ll take the bus. 

 

When the car Shiro rented is no longer in sight, Lance whips around to Keith. 

“Why didn’t you tell him?!” He demands, hands on hips. 

“None of your business.” Keith grumps, readjusting his bag strap on his shoulder and turning to walk to the bus stop down the street. “Bye Matt, thanks for coming this weekend.” Keith waves at his cousin’s best friend over his shoulder as he walks away. 

 

“Keith!” Lance calls after him. “Keith! At least talk to me about it!” 

Keith shakes his head to himself, heart clenching more and more the smaller Lance’s voice gets from the distance Keith is putting between them. 

“Why are you such a dick all the time!?” Lance yells after him. Keith feels his shoulders tense but he doesn’t stop walking. “Well fuck you too!” 

 

Keith sits down on the bench at the bus stop and buries his face in his hands. His shoulders feel stiff and his hands are clammy, mouth is dry and his throat feels as though it was stuffed with cotton balls. His sinuses are stinging. He blinks rapidly a few times, trying to keep his emotions in check. 

 

‘ _ Why do I always fuck things up? _ ’ He wonders to himself, Lance last resounding insult still ringing in his ears, echoing through his head. Keith fishes his phone out of his back pocket. He flips to his dad’s cell phone number and presses the call button before putting his phone to his ear. It rings only two times before it goes straight to voicemail. Keith feels something like desperation rise in his belly. He huffs shakily. He gets the craving for a cigarette but he doesn’t have any on him. He used them over the weekend whenever he’d get a second to sneak outside. 

 

So instead Keith just rakes his fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots. The bus screeches to a stop about ten minutes later and he jumps on before he can psych himself out of it. He heads to the back of the bus and sits in the very last row. Keith lets the familiar bump and jerk of the bus rock him into a half-awake state. 

 

The name of his road announced on the fuzzy overhead speakers startles him into full awareness. Keith jumps to his feet and rushes to get off the bus. He accidentally shoulders a man in his haste but Keith can’t really bring himself to apologize. 

 

The elevator in his apartment building is out of order, not really a surprise. Keith yanks open the door to the stairwell and stomps up the carpeted steps two at a time to his floor. He pauses when he sees the hallway littered with his stuff. Keith’s  _ Gwan _ is propped up against the wall, dresser right outside his apartment and trash bags filled with his clothes lined up against the wall. 

 

“Dad?” Keith tries, stumbling over his belongings and pushing open the front door to his apartment, which has been left ajar. All of the lights are off but the curtains have been taken off the windows, letting sunlight stream in and brighten the apartment. 

“Dad…? Keith calls again, a bit louder this time. Keith hesitantly walks through the living room and kitchen. The couch is gone and though the appliances are still in the kitchen, it still looks empty compared to the last time Keith laid eyes on it. It’s cleaner than he and his dad keep it. Spotless actually. The counter is free of the package of bread that they keep by the fridge and the trashcan by the pantry is missing too. 

 

Keith feels something rising up in his chest. An emotion he quite can’t put his finger on. Desperation? Grief? Something in the middle? Knowing he won’t get a response, Keith runs into the room that used to be his dad’s bedroom, now yelling for his father. 

 

When Keith sees the bare bedroom, his voice cracks and his knees give out. He collapses to his knees. Sobs wrench from somewhere deep in his chest, They hurt as they rip through his throat. They feel sore and violent and the tears that slide down his cheeks are fast and hot. He can’t remember when he actually started crying, whether it was when he saw his stuff in the hallway or if it was when he stepped into his old apartment. 

 

He can’t remember how long he sits there crying either, but sometime he slides down to sit on his butt, back leaned against the wall by his dad’s bedroom door, feet sprawled out in front of him as he stares at the blank walls surrounding him and cries silently to himself. 

 

He doesn’t answer when he hears familiar voices calling his name. He doesn’t really register them. It sounds as though they’re underwater. When Shiro’s face floats in front of his own, it’s blurry. Probably form his tears. When Shiro asks if he’s okay, Keith numbly shakes his head. 

 

Shiro wraps his big arms around Keith’s shoulders and lets him cry into his shirt. Keith accepts the gesture but doesn’t return it, arms limp at his sides. He sees Matt moving his clothes and he sees Lance and Hunk moving his dresser. He doesn’t look at any of them. Especially Lance. Guilt feels like a tangible thing on Keith when he thinks about Lance. It feels like bugs crawling up his arms and racing down his legs, stirring in his gut. Something he can feel but can’t see or catch. Just there at the worst possible times. 

 

Keith feels riding in the rental car again to Shiro’s apartment and he walks up the stairs to their door by himself. 

 

Shiro offers Keith his bed but Keith just shakes his head and sits on the couch, staring at the ground for a few moments before he hopelessly buries his face in his hands. 

 

**Lance’s P.O.V**

 

Anger boils in Lance’s gut as Keith walks away from him in the opposite direction. 

“Well fuck you too!” He yells at his retreating back, raising a hand to flip him off even though Keith doesn’t even bother to look back and see it. 

 

“What the hell just happened?!” Matt demands, setting his hands on his hips and glaring at Lance. Lance pulls at the collar of his shirt, suddenly sheepish as his fury drains from his belly like soap suds in a bathtub. Keith obviously doesn’t want to tell Shiro and Matt… at least not yet. He made that clear. But if what Lance thinks has happened as far as Keith’s living situation goes, which it like 85% probably has, Shiro needs to know and by default, Matt. It’s not Lance’s place to tell them technically but… The need to is strong. What if Keith doesn’t have a place to stay? 

 

So Lance takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose on a slow exhale as he turns to slowly face Matt. 

“I think Keith’s dad has left their apartment.” Lance says calmly. 

“What?!” Matt’s eyes almost bulge out of his skull and the sight would be funny under different circumstances. It’s not funny now. “What do you mean ‘left’?” 

“Like, moved.” Lance explains. “He told Keith to get his stuff from their apartment or something and then he wouldn’t answer Keith’s calls after that.”

Matt groans loudly, his head rolling back on his shoulders and his hair swishing about his face. “Why does that boy think he needs to do everything by his damn self!” It’s not really a question but Lance shakes his head. 

“That’s what I tried to tell him.” 

 

Matt pulls out his phone and dials Shiro from his recents screen. 

“Shiro?” He asks into the phone. “Bring the rental back here. … I’ll explain on the way to Lance’s complex. …  I’ll pay the damn fine if you’re so worried about it! … Just get your ass back here.” He hangs up then. Lance again, under other circumstances, would probably giggle at the conversation Matt just had over the phone with Shiro, sounding like an irritated, worried wife, but the habit to make light of everything it currently checked out at the moment. 

 

Shiro only takes about five minutes to turn around and drive back. 

“Maaatt~” He whines, leaning his head out the window. “Do you know how expensive rental cars are?”

“Of course I know how expensive it was.” Matt grumbles as he climbs into the passenger seat. Lance reluctantly gets in the back. 

 

Matt then proceeds to explain the situation to Shiro. Shiro’s shoulders tense up as he listens to Matt, and when he finished Shiro lets out a long-suffering sigh. 

“Keith would take on the entire planet if I wasn’t here I swear.” 

Lance nods his agreement from the back seat. 

 

Lance, Shiro and Matt all take in the sight of Keith’s-or at least Lance thinks he’s safe to assume are Keith’s- belongings sprawled out in the hallway. The door to Keith’s apartment is open and the three of them march inside. 

“Keith?” Shiro calls out first, glancing around the living room and wincing at the sight of it. At the lack of furniture. 

“Keith?” Matt tries next as he peeks in the kitchen pantry. 

 

Keith isn’t answering and the apartment is silent. It’s hard to tell if Keith has even been here yet but he’s had to have been right? 

“God, where could he have gone?” Shiro sounds downright devastated. 

 

Lance hesitantly walks down the hallway, peeking into the bedroom on the right. It’s empty. Completely bare. The wallpaper is peeling and there’s an indent in the drywall where the handle of the door sticks out. Very dreary. Though Lance’s apartment is similar to Keith’s in the layout and appearance, Lance thinks of the scratches and bumps in his walls as quirky. He thinks it adds character. He doesn’t get that feeling here. 

 

Lance withdraws his head from inside. The door across from the empty bedroom is only slightly cracked. Lance’s pushes it gently with the palm of his hand, cringing when it creaks loudly on it’s hinges. He sees a foot on the ground first and for a second he gets the very invasive and disturbing thought of Keith’s dad’s corpse on the ground. Maybe a handheld gun laying cold next to him. The picture makes Lance pauses, but he quickly shakes it away and hurriedly opens the door the rest of the way. 

 

The sight he’s met with is heart wrenching. Keith is sitting flat on the ground, legs outstretched in front of him. His head is leant back against the wall he’s propped against. He’s staring blankly at the wall across from himself, silent tears making slow tracks down his cheeks, which looks puffy and red like he’s already cried a lot. 

“Keith…?” Lance is the third person to call his name. Keith doesn’t respond at all. He doesn’t even blink. 

 

“Shiro!?” Lance calls over his shoulder, a bit frightened by the sight before him. “I found Keith!” Lance hears two sets of footsteps rush up behind him. Shiro shoulders Lance out of the way, not unkindly, and Lance lets him. Shiro kneels in front of Keith. 

 

“Keith?” He asks. Keith doesn’t respond, but from what Lance can see he thinks Keith’s eyes are at least focusing on Shiro’s face as he talks to him. “Hey buddy, are you okay? Buddy?”

 

There’s a long, pregnant silence that seems to stretch on forever before finally,  _ finally _ , Keith gives a slow shake of his head to tell Shiro that Keith is in fact, not okay. 

 

Lance feels a stuttered breath push from his chest. Shiro rises to his feet, a solemn look on his face, eyebrows drawn together. 

“Matt.” He says quietly and Matt nods to show he’s paying attention. “Can you get some of Keith’s stuff together? A few bags maybe? To bring to our apartment.”

Matt nods again. “Of course.” He answers, his voice hushed. Lance understands the feelings, his gaze locked on Keith. The situation feels fragile, the air thick with emotion. It feels as though someone could talk to loud and startle Keith. Break him. Make him snap. 

 

“And Lance.” Shiro turns his attention to Lance as Matt turns to gather some of Keith’s things. “Do you know if Hunk is home?”

Lance nods slowly, trying to get his gears to move. “He should be.” Lance replies. 

“I know this is asking a lot but-”Shiro glances to Keith, who’s eyes are now closed, tears no longer dripping down his cheeks. “Is there any way you and Hunk could move the rest of Keith’s stuff into your apartment?” 

Lance pauses, processing and Shiro rushes to finish. 

“Just to get it out of the hallway, I don’t think his  _ Gwan _ and the dresser are going to fit in the car. It would only be for a few days until we get Keith’s living situation figured out.” 

Lance has been nodding halfway through Shiro’s explanation. Of course Lance will help out Matt and Shiro. ...And Keith. 

 

Keith who looks so broken at the moment. So… sad. Lance feels his heart tug and his expression must reflect that because Shiro smiles at him. Shiro gently shoos Lance into the hallway to lean in and whisper to him: 

“Keith has been through a lot. He’s got a thick skin. He’ll be alright.” 

Lance just nods, not really sure how else to respond. “I’m gonna’ go ask Hunk to help me move the stuff into our apartment.” He says instead. 

“You’re such a big help Lance.” Shiro tells him. “Thank you so much.” 

Lance waves him off as he turns on his heel. “You sound like a proud parent.” Lance scoffs. “Don’t worry about it man.” 

 

Lance exits Keith’s apartment- or what used to be his apartment and crosses the hallway to his own front door. He fishes his key out of his back pocket. The key chain jingles as he pushes the key into the lock and turns it, pushing open the door with his shoulder. 

“Hunk?” Lance calls, peeking around the foyer. 

“Lance?” Hunk’s voice drifts from behind his bedroom door. Lance knocks on it with the knuckle of his index finger. 

“Hey Hunk? I got something to tell you about.”

“Oh boy.” He hear Hunk sigh. “I don’t like the sound of that.” But he reluctantly opens the door for Lance anyway, dressed in a Batman t-shirt and cargo shorts, and his head is head-band free. Lance tells Hunk a simplified summary of what happened to Keith, and left out some personal details as well. 

 

By the end of the story, Hunk looks downright terrified.    
“Poor Keith!” He shrieks. “I need to talk to him! And feed him!” 

Lance holds up his hands to calm his well-meaning friend. “Whoa whoa whoa. Now is probably not the best time.” When Hunk looks at him expectantly he continues. “Keith is kinda’ out of commision right now. Not the best time to… Talk to him I guess.” 

Hunk frowns but looks more worried. “He’s not hurt or anything right?”

“No… at least he’s not hurt physically.” 

Hunk sighs but shrugs helplessly, accepting Lance’s answer reluctantly. “So we need to bring all of Keith’s stuff in here?” 

Lance nods. “Yeah.”   
“You think we should put it in the office?” Hunk scratches the back of his head and shrugs a shoulder. 

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” Lance agrees, gesturing to the small empty room at the end of the hallway that leads to an office neither Hunk nor Lance need or use. It comes in handy now though. 

 

Lance crosses through the kitchen before exiting back out into the hallway, pausing to get a cold water bottle from the refrigerator. 

“Do you want a water?” Lance asks over his shoulder. 

“I’m fine.” Hunk assures Lance and Lance shrugs a shoulder, letting the fridge shut behind him. 

“Mm-kay. Lets rock.” Lance says with an enthusiastic clap of his hands. With him and Hunk working together they’ll have all of Keith’s stuff moved in no time. 

 

The first think Hunk and Lance decide to move is the dresser. 

“If we stick this in there first then we can stack the other stuff around it.” Hunk says and Lance agrees, bending his knees and wrapping his fingers tightly around the side, he grunts out, 

“You got it?”

“Yeah.” Hunk says. “You?”

“Yeah. Ready? On three.” Lance counts aloud and on three the two of them heft the dresser up about a foot from the ground and carefully back it into their apartment. 

 

As Lance is stepping backwards, carefully avoiding a bag on the ground, Lance catches sight of Shiro leading out a hunched, almost sick looking Keith. Keith is staring down at his shoes, avoiding all eye contact. Lance’s heart drops for what must be the millionth time today. 

“Lance?” Hunk asks, voice slightly muffled as he talks around the dresser they hold between them. 

“I’m good.” Lance says quickly and begins to walk backwards once again. 

 

~~~

 

Lance has to work the next day. His head is pounding when he wakes up and his mouth feels dry no matter how much water he drinks. He pops two small Advil tablets into his mouth and washes it down with a swig of Dasani water. Hunk is still sleepin since it’s one of the only days he has off this week. Lance was careful not to wake him as he shuffled around the house getting ready for work. He now eyes the clock as he snatches his charger off of the counter and shoves it into the pocket of his apron. 

 

Lance works at a small cafe called Java Trip. It’s privately owned by his boss named Coran and his niece Allura helps out a lot. It’s peaceful and pays well enough. Lance also isn’t complaining that his boss’s niece is drop dead gorgeous. Lance has tried to woo her over in the past but she doesn’t seem to fall for his charms. It’s a tad depressing, but Lance has got a thick skin so he tries not to think too hard on it. 

 

Lance has to jog to the bus stop in order not to miss it. He sits in the third seat on the right side and turns to stare out the window as the scenery passes by in a blur. He presses play on his favorite Spotify playlist and sticks a headphone in one ear. The drive to his work is short- only about five minutes- since Java Trip is right on the main square. As soon as the bus stops, Lance pops up out of his seat and jumps down the stairs. 

 

The door to the cafe jingles as he pushes it open, breath coming in short puffs from jogging down the street, passing by the familiar shops that like the square until he saw the familiar font on the sign of Java Trip. 

“Am I late?” Lance calls, sounding hopeful as he glances around. The walls are dark green and lined with fine pink detailing along the trim. Paintings of cups of coffee with cute hearts drawn in the foam on top and colorful cookies on small green plates hang slightly crooked on the walls. The bathrooms at the back have the words ‘lads’ and ‘lass’ written on them and the front register is made up of clear, two-way counters that have a bunch of yummy-looking pastries on display. The tables are dark wood and the chairs are a pastel pink. There’s a large bookshelf along the back wall filled with books. The lights overhead are small chandeliers that cast the whole shop in a warm glow. 

 

“By five minutes!” Allura calls back with a grin, british accent lilting in a teasing tone. Her silver hair is piled up in a bun on top of her head, but a few stray strands have fell from her hair tie, framing her face and accentuating her dark skin and petite features. She looks curvy despite wearing a work uniform and her eyes glint a mischievous blue in the overhead lighting. Allura looks breathtaking. As if that’s anything new. 

 

“I’ll let it slip this time Lance but next time I can’t promise what will happen!” Coran sticks his head out from behind the counter where he’s rearranging some of the pastries with gloved hands. Coran is tall- around 5’10 or 5’11 or so, with bright orange hair and a bushy handlebar mustache to match. Lance isn’t sure how old he is but if he had to guess he’d say late forties to early fifties. He also speaks in a thick, Australian accent. Lance once asked him if he used to live in Australia. He never ended up getting a clear answer. Just a handful of stories from Coran’s childhood told in an overly excited manner. 

 

“Honestly Coran.” Allura tsks, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “You say that every time.” 

Coran straightens. “Oh well I mean it this time young lady!” He falters. “Or, uh. Lance.” 

Lance grins. “I’ll remember next time, Coran.” He tries to sound sincere but he’s not sure if he quite pulls it off. 

 

Coran claps his hands together. “Alright staff, the morning rush should be coming in any second now.” He glances at the cat clock on the wall behind him. “It’s a quarter til seven. Lance you wipe down the tab-” 

“On it.” Lance cuts him off and holds up his hands, a wash cloth held in one and a bottle of spray cleaner in the other. 

“Oh. Good job. Allura can you help me get this last batch of cookies out of the oven?” Coran turns to his niece. 

“Of course.” Allura follows her uncle into the back room where the kitchen is. 

 

Lance wipes down all of the tables and is on the last one when the first customer of the day comes in. Allura and Coran are still in the kitchen so Lance takes over on register duty. The man-probably a businessman on his way to work- just orders a coffee to go which Lance is able to make right behind the counter. He can’t help but eyeball the man as he does so. Tall, blonde hair, beard, blue eyes and gorgeous, chiseled features. His dark blue suit stretches attractively across his wide shoulders and over his pectoral muscles. 

 

“Here you go.” Lance says as he hands the man his caramel hot coffee, extra whip. Lance tries to add a flirtatious smile but he’s not sure if the man catches on. He just gives Lance a polite smile, takes his cup, and is on his merry way. 

 

Lance sighs and rests his face in his palm for a few long moments, his elbow resting on the counter. Honestly the man was probably too old for him anyway. He looked like he was in his mid-thirties or so. 

‘ _ Can’t stop myself from admiring though. _ ’ Lance thinks to himself and he lifts his elbows off the counter. 

 

‘ _ Reminds you of another boy you admire but don’t touch huh Lance. _ ’ Lance wants to bash his own head in as the image of a shyly smiling Keith flashes on the inside of his eyelids. It won;t be the first time within the last day that he’s thought about the other guy either. Lance was up half of the night last night laying in bed, eyes glued to the ceiling and refusing to close. He thought about the belongings in the office down the hall. He thought of a heart-broken Keith sitting on the ground and staring blankly at the wall, years making tracks down his pale cheeks. 

Other thoughts that were racing through Lance’s brain last night were varied. One of the time he managed to doze off for a few minutes, he woke up with the thought, 

‘ _ Keith is a pretty crier. _ ’ Drifting through his head. He has no idea what he was dreaming about to make him think that he kind of doesn’t want to know. But the thought did spark Lance to imagine Keith crying in other situations, the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose flushed a cute red and his dark eyes wide and glassy. The image did weird things to Lance. It made him want to punch something or someone. Whoever made Keith cry in the first place. But it also made Lance picture Keith making a similar expression while lying on his back-

 

“Lance!” Coran’s voice shakes Lance from his thoughts and he jumps hard, twisting around to face his boss. 

“Y-yes?” He squeaks. He clears his throat. “Yes?” He tries again. 

Coran gives him an oddly knowing look, eyebrow arching. “I was just going to ask whether we had a customer, my boy.” 

“Someone came in and bought coffee but besides that no.” Lance informs him, scratching at the back of his neck embarrassedly. 

“Well alright.” Coran says cheerfully with a nod. “I’ll be doing paperwork back here.”

“Oh… Okay.” Lance responds. 

“And I’ll be heading on out now.” Allura passes by her uncle through the doorway that he’s currently occupying. “I’ve got a morning class today. Do you think you’ll be able to handle everything Lance?” 

Lance wets his lips and nods. “Of course! Just who do you think I am?” 

 

The words feel natural spilling from his lips, and the eye-roll Allura reacts with feels right. It feels normal. But Lance feels as though his heart’s not in it today. It’s the the words have been pre-programmed into him and he’s just spitting them back out. 

 

“Alrighty then, well have a good day you two. I’ll be back to help later but I think your shift will be over by then Lance.” Allura says and she backs towards the front door of the cafe, mini backpack strap slung over one shoulder. 

“It was nice catching up Princess!” Lance calls as she turns and exits Java Trip. 

Lance can just hear her yelling, “Don’t call me that!” As she leaves. 

 

As Lance watches Allura disappear down the semi-crowded street of a Monday morning, Coran slaps a heavy down onto Lance’s shoulder. 

“Is there anything weighing on your mind, Lance?” 

Lance blinks and looks up at his boss. He shuffles his feet, unsure of what to say for a few moments. “No.” He finally settles on. “I’m fine Coran. Thanks anyway man.” 

Coran nods and gives Lance a cheerful smile, eyes crinkling at the corners when he does so. “Of course m’lad. Now get back to work and just call if you get swarmed with customers.”

Lance nods and offers no other response. 

  
  


The rest of Lance’s shift goes by relatively quickly. Especially once breakfast traffic really started to hit around eight. With so many orders keeping him busy, Lance had no free moment to spend being bored or worrying over the time. 

 

That is until Shiro walks in and orders an extra large vanilla frappe. It’s around ten thirty, the perfect time between breakfast and lunch that the cafe is nearly empty. Shiro stares at Lance while Lance makes his drink, as if assessing him. 

 

“Shiro, what are you doing?” Lance finally gives up and asks the obvious. 

“I’m getting coffee.” Shiro answers, also stating the obvious. Lance gives him a look. “Okay.” Shiro easily gives in. “I wanted to talk to you about Keith.” 

Lance lets out a long-suffering sigh. This is what he had been afraid of. “Sure.” Lance says for some unknown reason. “I’m going to wipe down the counters while you talk though, okay?” 

“That’s fine.” Shiro quickly agrees. 

 

After Lance hands him his cup, Shiro takes a seat at one of the tables close to the register. Lance watches outside for a moment to make sure no one is about to turn into the cafe. When he’s satisfied that there won’t be any more customers for a few minutes, he sits down reluctantly across the table from Shiro. 

 

“Where is Keith anyway?” Lance asks curiously. 

“At my apartment.” Shiro answers, tracing his finger around the rim of his coffee cup absentmindedly. “He’s better than he was yesterday. He’s sad and mad but not as… unstable.”

Lance nods to show that he’s listening. “There’s three bedrooms in our apartment.” Shiro continues. Lance nods again. “And we have three people staying at our place…” 

“And?” Lance prompts, confused as to what Shiro is getting at. 

“We don’t have enough room at our house for Keith.” Shiro says bluntly. “He’d have to sleep on the couch every night which isn’t bad I guess but we’d be waking him up all the time and of all things, a lack of sleep is one of the last things Keith needs to add to his plate of negativity right now. He’s not in a good place and he needs to be nearby us but also have his own space because he always claims I smather him and-” 

 

“Shiro.” Lance cuts off his friends rant. “Are you asking if Keith can move in with me?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think or what to happen next? Leave suggestions if you have any. Also thank you to all of the loyal readers who follow this story and I'm sorry this chapter was posted so late in the day :(


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